Calla Potter
by LeFoxxx
Summary: AU. Calla has always been hiding. From bullies, from the Dursleys, from the teachers who only ever noticed when she didn’t pay them rapt attention. But she is also the twin sister of Harry Potter, the so-called Boy Who Lived, and when they begin at Hogwarts, she must come out of the shadows and face the world, no matter what it means for her.
1. Prologue

Halloween Night, 1981

There was a shadowy figure in the garden. Illuminated in a window were a mother and father playing with their children, twins who giggled as they clutched one another and crawled over the floor, content in their little bubble with each other and their parents. Not for long.

The hooded figure shifted, stepping on a twig, and the man inside, one James Potter, whirled around. "Lily," he whispered, laugh from not one minute ago vanishing into thin air. "Lily, it's him."

"Oh god," Lily breathed. "It is."

"Take them," James said, hazel eyes wide with fear. "Take Harry and Calla and go. I'll hold him off!"

"James!" Lily cried, rushing to the hallway and the bottom of the stairs as a cloaked figure thumped on the door. "What about you?"

"I'll hold him off," James said simply, biting his lip. He'd left his wand in the kitchen, and so had Lily. There would be no fight for them, no fight except the battle for their children. "Go!"

"I love you," Lily sobbed, holding her children tight to her chest.

"I love you too," James said, tightening his jaw as his wife disappeared up the stairs and the door fell down.

There was a flash of green light, and James Potter's life disappeared.

"Mummy loves you," Lily Potter murmured to her children, standing curiously in their crib. "Daddy loves you."

The children simply blinked, the enormity of the situation lost on their young minds. "Be brave, Calla, Harry. Be brave for us."

The nursery door was pushed in. "Not my children," Lily Potter said, staring into the eyes of Lord Voldemort. "Don't touch my children."

"Give me your son," he hissed. "And you needn't come to any harm."

"You've already killed my husband," Lily said, tears pricking at her eyes. "You will not get near my children. Not Calla, and definitely not Harry."

"Very well," Lord Voldemort said, raising his wand with a cruel smile. "Avada Kedavra!"

Lily Potter fell to the ground, one last thought in her mind: he would not harm her children.

"And now for you, boy," Voldemort hissed, staring at the small child in his crib, holding his sister's hand. "Avada Kedavra."

This time, there was another flash of green light. Lord Voldemort fell to the ground, and the air swam with electricity and magic, dark magic, foul magic, smothering the two children. Calla began to cry and Harry held her hand tighter, his one year old mind confused by the two bodies laying on the floor. Why was his mummy sleeping, and who was this strange, pale man? Where was their daddy?

A darkness swirled in the air, dancing around Harry and Calla like a galloping horse, before it seeped into Harry's open mouth, into Calla's salty tears.

It was hours before anyone came to find them, a strange man with a hooked nose and greasy man, who definitely wasn't Uncle Moony or Padfoot, or Wormtail, or the funny old man with strange glasses who came over every once in a while. He barely spared the crying girl and the scared boy a second glance as he cradled the cold body of their mother while the children looked on in confusion.

It took a while for the greasy haired man to leave, and as the sun rose on Godric's Hollow, two men burst into the nursery. Calla and Harry were asleep now, but awoke at the sound of footsteps and looked up. Uncle Moony, and Uncle Padfoot, men who were far more familiar than the other man. Neither twin could make out quite what the men were saying, and they were about to cry when they left, replaced by a tall and slightly scary man who had a strangely gentle smile as he scooped them up in his ginormous arms, taking them away from this broken house.

September 13th 1986

Calla and Harry stood outside Number Four Privet Drive in school uniforms, hiding behind their cousin Dudley. Dudley was a large boy, appearing especially plump in front of his scrawny cousins. He had on very shiny school shoes and smart trousers, with a hat resting atop his blonde head of hair.

"Doesn't he look wonderful, Vernon?" Petunia Dursley cooed, smushing her son's fat red cheeks. "Our little Didykins is all grown up!"

Calla frowned, looking around her with crossed arms. Uncle Remus had said that he would come around for her and Harry's first day of school. He was Calla's godfather, and although he wasn't allowed custody of either twin, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon never seemed able to stop his visits.

A car came to a stop behind them in the driveway and Calla turned around, jumping excitedly. "Uncle Remus!" she squealed, running to greet him. "You're late!"

"Calla!" Aunt Petunia scolded. "Don't make a scene like that," she said crossly, but Remus chuckled, kneeling down beside the twins.

"Are you excited for your first day of school, you two?" he asked, and they both nodded. "I loved school. That's where I was friends with your mummy and daddy."

Aunt Petunia coughed. "As always, it is a pleasure to see you, Remus," she said, in a tone that indicated it was never a pleasure to see Remus Lupin. "But we can't have Dudley being late on his first day because of you and those two."

"Of course," Remus said with a cold politeness. "Mind if I walk down there with you all?"

Uncle Vernon looked like he would mind a lot, but Remus took the hands of both Calla and Harry, gesturing for the rather irritated looking Dursleys to follow them. Calla and Harry grinned at each other from each side of Remus.

School was going to be more fun than Privet Drive. They promised themselves that, at least.

December 25th 1990

"Merry Christmas," Calla sighed as the clock ticked over to morning. The inside of her cupboard was full of spiderwebs and speckles of dirt.

"Merry Christmas, Calla," her brother sighed back, lifting a groggy hand over his eyes. "Do you want a spider as a present?"

"Better than a tissue from the Dursleys," Calla huffed, snuggling closer to her brother. The coldness of midwinter still crept into their bones and Calla shivered despite her closeness to Harry. "What time do you think Uncle Moony'll be round here?"

"I don't know," Harry said, shrugging. "Aunt Petunia said he was coming for tea. I'm not sure if she'll even let him come - he didn't last year."

By the time the clock ticked forwards to five o'clock, Calla was getting anxious. She hadn't seen Uncle Moony in ages, but he'd said that he'd be there, he promised. She and Harry sat at the table, with the smallest and thinnest slices of turkey, gazing hungrily at Dudley's heaped plate. The doorbell rang and Calla jumped up like an excited puppy.

"Uncle Moony!" she squealed as Aunt Petunia opened the door, inviting in her godfather.

"Merry Christmas, you two," Uncle Moony said, smiling with his wan face. "Do you want to see what I've got you two and Dudley?"

They both nodded excitedly, as Uncle Moony produced three wrapped presents. For Dudley, he gave a set of colouring pencils which the ungrateful pig tossed aside without even so much as a thank you.

Harry took a large book about history which he gawked at in excitement before engulfing Uncle Moony in a hug. As for Calla, she simply shrieked with excitement when she unwrapped her gift, a full set of the Famous Five novels by Enid Blyton. "Thank you, Uncle Moony!" she cried, jumping up and down with joy.

Best. Christmas. Ever.


	2. Ch1 - The Wizarding World

August 1st 1991

In the space of less than a month, Calla's life had been turned completely upside down. First, her bully of a cousin, Dudley, had been 'attacked' by a snake on his birthday and trapped in its enclosure; second, she and her brother had began to receive letters in the post addressed to them, though they'd never been allowed to read them; and thirdly, last night on her birthday, a ridiculously tall man had knocked down the door of the tiny cabin their aunt and uncle had holed them all up in and told her and her brother that they were a witch and wizard.

Altogether, it was a bit mad.

She stirred from the ground by the sound of her brother talking to said ridiculously tall man, discussing owls and Hogwarts - the school she and Harry were supposed to be attending. "Morning, Calla!" Harry said brightly, a proud beam on his lips. "Hagrid says he's going to take us to Diagon Alley today to get our things for school!"

Calla stared. She assumed Diagon Alley was a shopping centre or street, like Oxford Street in London, but she was a tad perplexed by how immediately accepting of their abilities he was. Not that she didn't want any excuse to get out of the hellhole they were forced to call home, but she had to admit she was sceptical about this man, even if he had more friendly bones in his - admittedly large - finger than the Dursleys had in all their bodies. "Okay."

"You don't seem very excited," Harry said, laughing slightly.

"Forgive me for being tired, brother dear," she teased, turning to Hagrid, who was watching this exchange with an affectionate smile. "What time are we leaving, sir?"

"Aye, ye can just call me Hagrid," Hagrid chuckled. "We can leave whenever ye want to, ye two."

Exchanging a warm smile, the Potters replied in synchronisation, "Now."

Calla had thought, originally, that Diagon Alley would be a bit like the shopping streets of London, but she soon found out that this assumption was wrong. For starters, they had to go through a rather smokey pub to get to the street, and it was there that Calla saw the first evidence that she and Harry were, in fact, famous.

"The usual, Hagrid?" the bartender asked with a crooked smile, but Hagrid waved a dismissive hand.

"Can't today, Tom. I'm on official Hogwarts business. Gotta get Calla and Harry here their school supplies."

A smothering hush descended over the pub, and Calla shifted awkwardly, fiddling with the edge of her ratty sleeves. Aunt Petunia had always insisted on her wearing lovely 'ladylike' clothes, and as a general rule, Calla had grown to hate the disgusting pastel flowers she was always clothed in, though she supposed it was a damn sight better than Dudley's awful old clothes that Harry was forced to wear. She decided right then that the second she could, she was going to get herself some new clothes. Ones that didn't make her look like someone's gran's curtains.

"Calla and Harry Potter?" someone asked, breaking the silence as Calla shrank behind Hagrid. "Can it really be?"

All at once, like a dam breaking, people rushed towards them, shaking their hands and exclaiming about "How wonderful to have you both back!" and "Honoured to meet you both, Potters!" While Harry reluctantly shook hands, Calla shuddered behind Hagrid, hiding her face and her awful scar behind ebony hair and wishing they could just go now.

She tugged on Hagrid's coat and her pleading green eyes must have softened something in him, for he cleared his throat and took Harry's hand. "Got a lot to do, these two," he said loudly, and wizards and witches nodded in understanding. "We'll be off now."

Calla smiled at Hagrid gratefully as he led them outside and she could breathe again, string up at the blue sky. Still, the place they were in didn't look like much of a shopping street, even if it was magical. She was about to speak up when Hagrid tapped the wall before them with his pink umbrella, which Calla thought made a rather unconventional wand, and the bricks began sliding out, revealing a cobbled street before them.

Brightly painted storefronts lined the pavement, with signs proclaiming these shops 'Quality Quidditch Supplies' and 'Flourish and Blotts Booksellers'. Calla took a moment to take it in before she had to hurry along, struggling to keep up with her brother and Hagrid. "But Hagrid," Harry was saying, "how on Earth are we going to afford all this? The Dursleys won't ou for anything."

"What?" Hagrid chuckled. "Ye think yer parents didn't leave ye nothin'? Ye'll get yer money in Gringotts - Wizarding bank, run by goblins."

"Goblins?" Calla echoed, though she didn't think she should be surprised. Witches, wizards, goblins? What else was new?

"What are they like?" Harry pressed, eyes wide. "Are they magic too?"

"Course they are," Hagrid laughed. "But don't go letting them hear ye like that - proud creatures, goblins. Ye won't want to insult them, even by accident."

Stepping inside the bank, Calla found her mouth falling into an 'o' shape. White marble made up the walls, and small, wrinkled creatures with hooked noses leaned over counters, faces fixed into seemingly permanent scowls. Harry and Calla were both taken aback by what they saw, but Hagrid strode on to a desk, seeming unfazed by what he saw. Then again, he'd probably been here a number of times, and goblins were unlikely to be a surprise to him.

"Calla and Harry Potter wish to access their vault," Hagrid said proudly, beaming at the dark haired twins.

The goblin regarded them carefully, squinting with cold eyes. "And do Calla and Harry Potter have their key?"

"Oh," Hagrid said, stuffing hands into his pockets. "I'm sure I've got it around here somewhere - aha!"

Producing a wrought iron key, Hagrid set it down on the table with a grin. "Very well," the goblin said in a snarl. "Right this way, please."

Needless to say, the cart ride to the vault did not do wonders for Calla's stomach. By the time it came to a stop, she was ready to throw up, and almost fainted on the spot when she entered the vault. As Hagrid explained magical money to Harry, she scooped the golden coins, which would likely be the most valuable, into a little velvet pouch and eyed some of the jewellery which lay on the shelves around the room. There gleamed any number of rubies set into silver chains and ring bands, and Calla's eyes widened.

"Hagrid?" she called. "Is all this jewellery ours, too?"

"Everythin' in 'ere belongs to you two," Hagrid said with a nod. "Though I'm not so sure that aunt and uncle of yours would let ye keep any of it if you brought jewellery home."

She supposed Hagrid was right, and with a sigh Calla dragged her gaze away from the jewellery, instead scooping up a few of the silver and bronze coins before she decided her money pouch was well full enough.

"Now," Hagrid was saying to the goblin, "I've got a letter here from Albus Dumbledore. About the You-Know-What in Vault Number 713."

The goblin nodded, taking the letter and scanning it. "Of course."

Calla was expecting something similar to their vault, full of glistening gold and silver and bronze and rubies, so it was with a vague sense of disappointment that she peered inside Vault 713 And saw nothing but a grubby old package wrapped in brown paper. Hagrid scooped it up instantly, and it's size was nothing in comparison to Hagrid's wide palms.

"Right now," Hagrid muttered as they broke back out into the sunlight. "I think I'll go to the Leaky Cauldron for a little pick me up. Don't like those Gringotts cars..."

He showed them the way to Madam Malkins where they could get their robes and proceeded to the Leaky Cauldron for a 'pick me up'.

"Hogwarts, dears?" asked the witch in the shop. "I've got another young boy being fitted through here, come along."

Passing through the shop, Calla caught sight of herself in a mirror. She hadn't brushed her hair since yesterday, and scowled at her messy curls. Still, at least they covered the scar at the side of her forehead. It was an S shape, like her brother's except curved, and Calla thought in some ways it was even worse than Harry's scar. At least he didn't feel pain every time he touched his scars.

"Cal!" Harry called, and Calla dragged herself out of her thoughts to follow him and the witch to where a pale, blond haired boy sat on a stool.

"Hogwarts?" the blond drawled, nose turned upwards slightly, as though there was something rotten underneath it.

"Yes," Harry said, and Calla nodded in agreement as a young witch started pinning robes around her, the long sleeves leaving an air around her wrists. Robes seemed rather ... unique, to say the least, but they were still far better than Aunt Petunia's handmedowns.

"Me too," the blond drawled. "My mother and father are next door looking at books, but I'm going to drag them off to look at brooms in Quality Quidditch Supplies later. I think it's ridiculous that first years aren't allowed their own brooms, don't you? I think I'll bully father into buying one for me anyway." Calla narrowed her eyes. The boy spoke a little like Dudley did, and she felt her lip curl in distaste. "Have you two got your own brooms?"

They both shook their heads, Calla staring at the boy. "Play any Quidditch?" he asked, and Calla had to admit she had no idea what he was on about, making a mental note to find out what Quidditch was by the time they got to Hogwarts. "I think I'll try out for the house teams. Father says it'll be a crime if I'm not picked." He paused for a moment, as though waiting for them to say something, before he asked, "Know what houses you'll be in yet?"

Again, they shook their head. "No," Harry said, at the same time Calla asked, "What houses are there?"

The blond boy frowned. "What do you mean what houses are there?" he asked, looking down his nose at her. "You're not a mudblood, are you, girl?"

Calla recoiled at his tone, and Harry immediately snarled. "Don't talk to her like that," he said. "She just asked a question. And what's a mudblood anyway?"

The blond sneered, and Calla grew to like him even less with every passing second, a feat only the Dursleys had achieved before. "I assume neither of you are of Wizarding blood, then?"

Before Calla could stop him from putting his foot in it - couldn't he think not to provoke this boy - Harry snarled, "We are actually, for your information."

The blond laughed. "Oh, really? Prove it - what family are you from. I'm a Malfoy - you don't get much purer blood than that."

At this, Calla had to hold back her own snarl. Purer blood? She hadn't expected wizards to be quite so rude as this boy appeared. "Potter," Harry said, glaring at Malfoy, whose eyes widened. "I'm Harry, and this is my twin sister Calla, and no, we will not shake your hand."

Calla snorted at the astonished look on Malfoy's face as the witch told them they could go now and they paid quickly, hurrying out before Malfoy could think of a comeback to that. The second they exited the store, they smacked into Hagrid, who looked like he was about to say something before he realised who it was. "Harry, Calla. You're out quick!"

They simply nodded, and Hagrid took them to ice cream, seeming to notice their mildly distressed looks. As Harry and Calla bit into their ice creams, Harry asked, "What's Quidditch?"

"Blimey!" Hagrid cried, attracting a few stares. "I forgot how much you two don't know. Imagine not knowing about Quidditch." The twins exchanged a confused glance - Hagrid wasn't really helping.

As Harry went on to explain what had happened in the robes shop with the Malfoy boy, with casual interjections from Calla, Calla watched the shoppers passing by outside the window of the ice cream parlour. She spotted the Malfoy boy hurrying past with two people who could only be his parents, as well as a whole horde of red haired boys and two people who looked like their mother and sister, as well as a short girl with bushy hair carrying a stack of books, followed by two rather confused looking adults. There was also a blonde girl who skipped along with a younger looking girl in front of their parents, and a round faced boy clutching a toad, accompanied by a stern-looking, elderly witch.

"So, what are the Hogwarts houses then?" Harry asked finally, and Calla gave Hagrid her attention.

"Well, let's see, there's Gryffindor for a starters," Hagrid said, puffing out his chest. "That's the house yer parents were in. Brave and noble, Gryffindors, that's my house too." The way he spoke, it was like Gryffindor was the only way to go, and Calla admitted she'd like to be in the same house her parents had once been in. "Then there's Hufflepuff. Ever'one says Hufflepuff are a bunch of duffers, but they're good students. Trustworthy, nice. And Ravenclaw, that's where all the smart ones go, they value intelligence, individuality. And then, Slytherin. That's where that Malfoy boy's be no doubt. There ain't a wizard or witch who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin."

In that case, Calla thought, the Malfoy boy was sure to be a Slytherin. Then again, he'd seemed half decent until he started talking.

After they were done with their ice creams, they set off exploring again. While Harry searched for their schoolbooks, Calla set off in search of a fiction section, hoping to find something like the Enid Blyton books she'd borrowed from the school library one day when her teacher let her go at lunchtime. It took half an hour before she gave up and resigned herself to finding out about the more exciting aspects of magic. She picked up books on Magizoology, Potions, Divination, and Ancient Runes, before also settling on a textbook about the First Wizarding War And You-Know-Who, figuring it might help her to better understand what she was.

They also stopped in the apothecary and a few other shops, before finally going to get their wands. Calla didn't honestly think the wand shop was all that impressive. On the outside in shabby, peeling letters, read 'Ollivander Makers Of Fine Wands', and the interior didn't exactly compensate for its lack lustre appearance.

Shelves were stacked high with slim boxes, each labelled with words Calla couldn't quite make out, even with her glasses. "Hello?" Harry said, his voice wavering. The twins jumped back in surprise when a man appeared, smiling at them.

"Good afternoon," the man said, and Calla shivered. "Calla and Harry Potter. Yes, yes I wondered when I would be seeing you two. Both with Lily's eyes - why, it seemed like only yesterday she was here buying her first wand. Ah yes..." he trailed off, and Calla felt unnerved, instinctively pulling her hair farther over her scarred forehead. "And those would be the scars there, Harry, Calla. I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it."

Calla's breath caught in her throat. To think that Voldemort, the man who'd murdered her parents and tried to do the same to her and her brother, had been here, perhaps stood in this very spot... She turned away from Ollivander's gaze, and clutched Harry's arm.

"Yes," Ollivander said brightly, seeming to have cleared his thoughts. He looked away from Hagrid - had they been speaking? Calla had no idea - and instead focused on Harry and Calla. "Now, as for your wands..."

Half an hour and twenty seven wands later, Harry had finally found his wand. "Holly and phoenix feather," Ollivander said, with a troubled gaze. "Curious."

Calla blinked, exchanging confused looks with Harry, a practice that seemed to be becoming a trend. "What's curious, sir?" Calla asked, frowning.

But Ollivander wasn't looking at Calla. "It's curious," he said, tilting his head, "that this wand should choose you, when it's brother was the one which gave you that scar." He pointed somewhat rudely at Harry's forehead and he gulped, Calla shifting in front of him.

"What do you mean?" she asked, glaring at Ollivander. "And it's rude to point."

Ignoring her latter comment, Ollivander whispered, "The Phoenix that gave the feather in your wand gave another feather, just one other." He didn't say anything more, but Calla knew what he meant, and she felt Harry stiffen behind her.

"Okay," she said, frowning. "So? That doesn't mean anything, not really. What about my wand?"

It Ollivander found this rude, he didn't show it, simply flouncing over to find another box from his shelves. "Give it a wave," he said simply, and Calla took the wand, moving to stand beside Harry once more.

She was much easier to find a wand for, as it was on her fourth go that she found a wand with elder and unicorn hair. Ollivander looked troubled at this, but held his tongue, probably concerned about how to go about delivering whatever pretentiously melancholy news he had to offer Calla.

"This wand," he said slowly, gesturing to the white stock of elder held in Calla's hand, "is powerful, young Miss Potter. I wonder if it is safe in the hands of one so tied to the Dark Lord..."

"It's perfectly safe with her," Harry said, glaring at Ollivander in much the same way as Calla had earlier. "She's a good person."

"No, no, I don't doubt that," Ollivander said hastily. "But still, I wonder..."

Calla decided to lève it at that, and the twins promptly offered to pay, before leaving the store, standing outside crossly with Hagrid. Twirling her wand in her hands, Calla stroked the top of it, the curving spiral of the handle that fit perfectly in her palm. But Ollivander's echoing words still chilled her, and she grasped her brother's hand tight.


	3. Ch2 - The Hogwarts Express

September 1st 1991

The drive to London had been awkward to say the least. Uncle Moony had joined them for the journey, eager to see Calla and Harry off to Hogwarts, perhaps less eager to see Dudley getting his pig's tail removed. He'd shown up at Privet Drive the day after Harry and Calla had gone to Diagon Alley, and though the Dursleys were originally disgusted by Uncle Moony being not only a wizard, but a werewolf too, their fear of him eventually won out and they let him inside to see the Potters.

After he'd regaled Harry and Calla with several of his own Hogwarts stories, he'd decided to take them with him to King's Cross on September 1st, and the Dursleys were too afraid of him to disagree. He'd explained to them the Hogwarts houses, and informed Calla of all the rules of Quidditch, and both twins ended up firmly deciding that they wanted to be Gryffindors, definitely.

And so, at a quarter past ten on September 1st, Remus Lupin stepped out of the Dursleys' well polished car with Harry and Calla on either side of him. "I'm sorry I could never have looked after you both when you were younger," he said, crouching so he was at their height. "I wasn't allowed to have custody of either of you because of my condition, but never doubt that I care for you both, and I have waited for this moment ever since you two were born. Your mother and father and I," he paused, as though thinking over his words. "Your mother and father and I, we always said we'd all see you two off together. I'm sorry they cannot be here today, but know that if they could see you now they would be so, so proud."

Calla felt tears blossoming in her eyes and moved with Harry to hug Uncle Moony, but the moment was lost when Uncle Vernon coughed loudly, beady eyes glaring at the Potters and Uncle Moony.

"Yes, yes, this is all very sentimental," he huffed. "But we've got to get Dudley to his appointment, and we don't want to be waiting around on you three again."

Uncle Moony smirked. "Ah, no problem, you Dursleys go on ahead. I'll just fly home."

Aunt Petunia spluttered and Dudley's eyes widened in terror, hands going instinctively to fearfully clutch his bottom. Calla and Harry both held back laughs, as Uncle Vernon slammed the car door. "Get in, Petunia, Dudley. We can leave these ones to find their own way."

With a final sneer, the Dursleys disappeared into the car and revved up, almost knocking Calla and Harry over as they pulled out of a parking space, zooming away from view.

"Now," Uncle Moony said, smiling. "What do you say we go and find Platform Nine and Three Quarters?"

"Yeah!" Calla and Harry said in unison, beaming as they hauled their cages containing their owls, Uncle Moony handling their trunks. After much deliberation in Diagon Alley, Calla had decided to get herself a tawny owl instead of a black cat, and she'd named it Moony after her uncle, a fact which brought tears to his eyes when she told him. As for Harry, he'd chosen a snowy white owl that he'd named Hedwig after reading a history book, the only textbook he'd bothered to pick up. Calla had tried for the last month to try and get him to read one of their textbooks - 'we want to at least know what we're getting ourselves into' - but Harry had only skimmed 'Hogwarts: A History' and 'The Standard Book Of Spells: Volume I' before giving up and taking out one of Calla's Enid Blytons.

As they darted through the station, Calla passed the same red headed family she'd spotted in Diagon Alley when they went there with Hagrid, and offered a wave to the smallest boy, who looked faintly ill as his family bustled along. "Now," Uncle Moony said, standing between Platforms Nine and Ten, "getting onto the platform is simple. All you have to do is run at that wall between the platforms."

They both stared at him. Had Calla's godfather finally gone bonkers? "Are you sure about that, Uncle Moony?" Calla asked slowly, frowning.

"Of course I am," Uncle Moony chuckled. "Go on, you can do it together, and I'll see you on the other side okay."

He gave them both quick hugs and the twins exchanged nervous glances before resolving to take it at a run. Pushing their trolleys, and earning hoots of malcontentment from both their owls, they rushed towards the barrier and felt themselves enveloped in darkness for a moment, before they emerged onto a bustling train statuait platform. The train blew steam from its top and whistled loudly as the twins checked the time on the clock. It was quarter to eleven now, and they both wanted to make sure they could get a compartment on the train, so once Uncle Moony game through he helped them with their trunks onto the train and smiled, telling them to come see him for a proper goodbye once they'd found a compartment.

"This one looks empty?" Calla said, peeking into a compartment. "Come on, Harry, don't take all day."

"Alright, Calla, alright," Harry laughed, as they stowed their trunks away and went to the open window, peering out across the platform.

"Uncle Moony!" Harry shouted, and Calla's godfather turned to them with a smile, waving as he came closer.

"I see you've found a compartment, then," he chuckled, looking up at them.

"Yeah," Calla said, giggling. "Uncle Moony, what do you think we should do if that blond boy from Diagon Alley comes in?"

"I said we should curse him," Harry said, smirking with a hint of malice.

"But I said I could just take his eye out with one of my colouring pencils."

Uncle Moony snorted with laughter, before composing himself and smiling in affection. "If he's a prat, I'd do both," he said. "But try not to get detention on your first day, alright?"

"We'll do our best, Uncle Moony!" Calla giggled, giving a mock salute. The clock was ticking further now, and it was five to eleven.

Uncle Moony must have noticed this, for his expression softened. "Now, before the train pulls away, do you remember what I told you two?"

"Be nice to your teachers," Calla said.

"Make sure you do your homework properly."

"Work hard."

"Don't get too many detentions."

"Don't get into trouble."

"And have fun!" they chorused together, earning a chuckle from Uncle Moony.

"Spot on, you two," he laughed. It was one minute to eleven, and the train's engines began to rumble slowly as Harry and Calla's eyes widened in delight.

"Don't miss us too badly!" Calla called, laughing.

"We promise to write every day!"

"And to be top of our classes!"

"We love you, Uncle Moony!" they shouted, as the clock struck eleven and the platform slowly, slowly, slipped out of view.

The Potter twins reclined in the compartment for a short while, Calla doodling in the nearly full sketchbook Uncle Moony got her for last Christmas, Harry reading one of the Famous Five books he'd gotten Calla to temporarily part with. "What do you think Hogwarts will be like, Harry?" Calla asked, breaking the soft silence between them. "Do you think everyone will like us?"

"I dunno," Harry replied, putting his book down. "I hope so, except from that Malfoy boy. I didn't like him that much."

"He looked like a narcissistic ferret on steroids," Calla said bluntly, and Harry choked with laughter.

"Well, you're not wrong," Harry laughed, propping his feet up beside his sister.

Just then, there was a knock at the door, and a lanky, freckled, red haired boy poked his head around, frowning. "Do you mind if I sit with you two?"

Calla glanced at Harry nervously, unsure about this boy, but Harry nodded with a grin. "Course you can."

"Neat," the boy said, plopping himself down on the seat.

"Is this one of the boys that you saw in Diagon Alley, Cal?" Harry asked, regarding the ginger boy curiously. The tops of the boy's ears went red and his eyes widened as Calla nodded, but Harry hastily covered it up, sensing that he didn't want to talk about it. "So, are your family all wizards then?"

"Yeah," ginger said cagily. "Why, are you some sort of pure bloods?"

"Purebloods?" Harry asked, bewildered. "No. We, er... we were raised by muggles, if that's what you mean."

"Oh," the boy said. "I'm Ron, by the way, Ron Weasley."

"Harry Potter," Harry said, not noticing how Ron's eyes widened. "And this is my sister, Calla."

"Are you really?" Ron asked, breathlessly. "Have you got the - the scars?"

Personally, Calla didn't want to show her scar to this boy - they'd barely known each other five minutes, honestly - but Harry pushed his fringe back to reveal his lightning and Calla supposed she ought to do the same, shifting her hair to reveal the serpent like S by her hairline.

"Whoa," Ron said, and Calla supposed he must be seriously lacking in the sensitivity department as he proceeded to ask, "Do you remember what happened when, you know... he came by?"

Harry seemed lost for a moment, and so Calla dove in. "No. And no offence to you, but even if he did, it's not the kind of thing we like to share, if you know what I mean." While this wasn't a total lie - both of them had had dreams of green light and high cackling voices - Calla meant what she said. This Ron boy seemed alright, but if he wanted to push into her and her brother's privacy, Calla was going to have issues.

"Oh." Ron looked down abashedly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude."

"It's okay," Harry said, neither twin knowing quite what to say. "So, how many brothers do you have?"

Ron groaned. "Five, and a little sister. Bill's the oldest, he's a curse breaker for Gringotts - he was head boy, too - then there's Charlie, who was Quidditch Captain and now he works with dragons in Romania. They've both left Hogwarts now, but Percy's in fifth year, and he's a bit of a prat sometimes, especially now he's a prefect. Then Fred and George - they're twins like you two, except identical - and they're annoying most of the time. They play loads of pranks, but they're a laugh too. Then there's Ginny, my little sister. She's going to Hogwarts next year, but she still complains all the time about not getting to go. She's annoying, too."

"What house were they all in?" Harry asked, and Calla rolled her eyes. One was a curse breaker and one worked with dragons, but sure Harry, go and ask about their houses.

"Gryffindor," Ron said with a touch of glowing pink pride. "That's where they all say I'll be, but I bet I wind up in Hufflepuff anyway," he added with a touch of gloom.

"I bet you won't be," Harry told Ron kindly. "Right, Calla?"

"Sure. You probably know lots of magic already, but anyway it's better Hufflepuff than Slytherin, right?"

"Suppose you're right," Ron said with a shrug.

They passed a while in amicable conversation before Calla got bored of doodling and rare interjection into the boys' conversation, choosing to go explore the train instead. The corridor was fairly boring actually, and Calla was about to return to Harry and Ron when she saw a short bushy haired girl walking along, head buried in a book. As though sensing Calla's presence, the girl looked up in mild surprise.

"Hello!" the girl said, startling Calla. Her book hung from one hand by her side, and Calla caught the name of Roald Dahl.

"Hello," Calla said back timidly, green eyes wide with curiosity at the girl.

"I'm Hermione Granger," she introduced herself as, sticking out a hand. "And you are?"

"Calla Potter," Calla replied nervously, offering a shy smile as Hermione's jaw dropped.

"Are you really?" she asked breathlessly. "I've read about you, and your brother of course. Is he on the train too?"

"Um, yes?" Calla replied, shrinking in on herself a little.

"You both are in so many books. Is it true you were raised by muggles?" Calla nodded. "I was too, I'm a muggleborn, when we got the letter it was ever such a surprise, but my parents are very proud of me of course, it's all very exciting."

Hermione kept talking and they ended up strolling together down the corridor, quiet conversation turning into a surprisingly loud discussion about 'Matilda'. "D'you want to sit with me and my brother?" Calla asked, surprising herself. "There's another boy there called Ron, too, he's from a wizard family and he knows loads about Hogwarts."

"I'd love to!" Hermione said, a grin lighting up her face, and something told Calla she hadn't had anyone else to sit with.

But when they reached the compartment, Calla was greeted by an unpleasant head of blond hair, and from the stuck up words and nasal voice, she knew precisely who it belonged to.

"Sod off, Malfoy," she heard Ron say, and she and Hermione gave each other joint looks of concern.

"What are you gonna do, blood traitor?" Malfoy hissed, As Hermione came up behind him, hands on hips.

"I hope you aren't fighting," she said bossily, and Calla saw Malfoy round on her with a snarl.

"Who are you?" he snarled.

"Hermione Granger," Hermione replied, tilting her chin up. "You?"

The boy didn't reply to her question, simply sneering at her. "Granger. I don't know that name - mudblood, are you?"

"You take that back!" Ron said, leaping to his feet and pointing his wand at a quivering Malfoy's throat.

"And what are you going to do about it, Weasel?" He cast a glance over the boys, then at Calla and Hermione, sneering. "Come on, Crabbe, Goyle. Let's leave these three with the mudblood."

With that, he swept away, two brutes following after him. "It's almost time to get ready," Hermione said. "Calla, we should probably get changed - you boys should, too."

Hermione began walking away, as Harry and Ron stared at Calla blankly. "Who was that?" Harry asked, curiously.

"Hermione Granger," Calla replied with a smile. "She likes Roald Dahl."


	4. Ch3 - The Sorting

September 1st

When the train finally pulled into the station, the compartment was filled by Calla, Harry, Ron, Hermione, a round faced boy called Neville who had lost a toad, and was rather concerned about it, and a blonde haired girl called Daphne who Calla and Hermione had seen coming back from getting changed, and who after a short conversation, had joined them for the remainder of the journey.

Stepping off of the train, Harry clutched Calla's hand tightly and squeezed it, grinning. "Are you nervous?" she whispered, green eyes wide.

"A little," Harry whispered back. "Actually, a lot."

"So am I," Calla replied. "We'll be fine though, won't we?" After a moment's hesitation, she asked the question that had been bothering her for a while now, "What if we're in different houses?"

"So?" Harry shrugged. "Even if we don't have any classes, we're still twins, and we're still always going to be friends, right?"

Calla nodded, and she found herself smiling. "Right. Come on, or we'll lose the others."

Hastening down a path, they heard Hagrid shouting for the first years, and bounded up to him. "Hi, Hagrid!" Harry said cheerfully.

"Harry!" Hagrid cried. "And Calla! Ye two excited for your first day at Hogwarts?"

"Yeah!" Calla giggled, though nerves swam in the pits of her stomach. "Are you taking us there?"

Hagrid nodded, smiling, before standing up straight. "Alrigh', we got everyone? Good. Let's get goin' then."

The first years and Hagrid made their way down the hill to a lake, made dark by the night sky. Boats sat by the edges, and the students made their ways towards them. "Four to a boat," Hagrid instructed, just as the sox from the carriage made to enter one together.

Harry and Calla exchanged glances of uncertainty. "We'll find another boat," Harry said. "If you four want to go together."

Daphne and Hermione's eyes both widened. "I'm not going with toad boy," Daphne hissed, loud enough for Neville to hear. "But my friends have all gotten in boats already."

"How about four go in one boat, two in another?" Hermione suggested, and she and Daphne both moved immediately closer to the twins, much to Ron's chagrin and Neville's confusion. Calla wanted to invite him to join them, but that could mean she'd have to be separated from Harry, and there was no way that was happening.

"I guess it's us four then," Harry said weakly, clearly just as uncomfortable as Calla felt. "Is that alright with you two?"

"Sure," Ron said, though he was still frowning. "We'll see you when we get there, anyway, won't we?"

As Ron and Neville headed off, the remaining four clambered into a boat, sitting down comfortably. "I've read all about this in Hogwarts: A History," Hermione was saying. "Supposedly there's a giant squid underneath the lake, though we might not see it."

"It's true," Daphne said casually. "My parents were both in Slytherin, and the dorm was below the lake, so they saw it now and then. They said it was nothing special, though."

The three regarded her curiously. "Do you think you'll be in Slytherin, too, then?" Hermione asked. "Only I read that a lot of the time, families end up in the same houses."

"I don't know," Daphne shrugged. "Probably. I think my parents would like it if I was in Slytherin, but they would be alright with Ravenclaw, too, I suppose. I can't imagine if I ended up in Hufflepuff or Gryffindor, they'd hate that."

"But what house do you want to be in?" Harry asked, looking confused.

"I don't know," Daphne repeated. "Whatever my parents would be fine with. It'd be good if we were all in the same house though, wouldn't it, though you're Potters, so you probably won't be Slytherins, and Hermione's a muggleborn so I doubt she will be either. No offence."

"None taken," Hermione muttered.

"What do you guys think you'll be in?" Daphne asked, clearly uncomfortable with all the attention on her.

"I'd like to be a Gryffindor," Hermione said. "But everyone says I'm smart, so I suppose I wouldn't mind Ravenclaw, either."

"I don't mind, honestly," Calla said. "I'd like to be with Harry, though. Ravenclaw sounds good, but our parents were in Gryffindor, and so was Uncle Moony, so that'd be cool."

"I'll probably end up in Hufflepuff," Harry said gloomily. "I'm not brave or smart or any of that."

"You are so smart," Calla scoffed. "All the teachers said so. And you can become brave, too." Daphne and Hermione both nodded their agreement.

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see," Harry said, though he still had a rather dejected tone.

The conversation silenced for a while before there were audible gasps and everyone looked up as Hogwarts finally came in to view.

"It's beautiful!" Calla cried. "Look, Harry!"

"There are seven stories in Hogwarts," Hermione told them, reciting as though she'd read it straight from a textbook. "And a dungeon, and there are one hundred and forty two staircases that connect them all. They move, too, apparently."

"Whoa," they all breathed, eyes still wide at the sight before them.

But they had barely any time to take in the Castle, as soon they were off the boats and being led up a staircase by Hagrid. Hagrid rapped twice on the door just as Ron and Neville crept back over to their friends.

The door swung open to reveal an elderly looking with, with a stern gaze and a pointed hat. "Thank you, Hagrid," she said in a Scots accent. "I'll take them from here."

She beckoned them in, and the new first years took their first steps into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Calla was taking in the view of mahogany wood panels, and the high rising ceiling, just barely aware of the professor, who'd introduced herself as McGonagall, talking about the Hogwarts houses.

Calla was taken from her thoughts when McGonagall swept from the room and people started fidgeting, Neville fixing his cloak, which was currently fastened underneath his ear. "Do you know how we get sorted?" Harry was asking Ron, who shook his head.

"Fred - that's one of my brothers - was going on about how we had to wrestle a troll or something painful like that."

Calla and Daphne both shuddered, while Hermione started listing all the spells she could think of to fight trolls. "I'm sure it's nothing so bad," Calla said, assuring a rather pale looking Daphne.

"Yeah, I-"

"Greengrass!" a voice shouted, and the girls turned around to see Malfoy with his two brutes, as well as two girls. "Aren't you going to join us?"

"I, et..."

"You're not spending time with that mudblood there, are you?" one of the girls cackled, and Calla saw Daphne and Hermione both shrink back on themselves. "Goodness, look at her hair."

"And is that Calla Potter?" the other girl sneered. "You'd think she'd look a little more presentable than that."

"Hey," Harry said, turning around. "Don't talk about my sister like that."

"Or what, Potter?" Malfoy taunted, stepping closer to Harry.

Great, Calla thought. They weren't even sorted yet and already they'd made enemies, and by the looks of it, Harry was about to get into a fight. "Leave it," Calla murmured. "Uncle Moony specifically told us not to get any detention on our first day."

Honestly, Harry looked like he might have completely disregarded Calla's words had it not been for Professor McGonagall opening the door, and beckoning the first years inside. "We are ready to receive you now," she said, a steely glint in her eyes.

Making their way down the aisle between tables, Calla and Harry clutched each other tightly, looking around uneasily. There were a few faces that Calla vaguely recognised from passing on the platform and the train, but apart from that she and her brother were both quite lost in the sea of people, and used one another as their anchors.

Hermione was talking about the enchanted ceiling to Daphne, who still looked torn between them and Malfoy's troop, while Ron and Neville shared their anxieties over what they'd actually have to do.

Just as Calla felt she might faint from nerves, a hat was placed on a stool in front of them, and everyone watched in amazement as it opened its brim and began to sing.

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

"But don't judge on what you see,

"I'll eat myself if you can find

"A smarter hat than me.

"You can keep your bowlers black,

"Your top hats sleek and tall,

"For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

"And I can cap them all.

"There's nothing hidden in your head

"The Sorting Hat can't see,

"So try me on and I will tell you

"Where you ought to be.

"You might belong in Gryffindor,

"Where dwell the brave at heart,

"Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

"Set Gryffindors apart;

"You might belong in Hufflepuff,

"Where they are just and loyal,

"Those patient Hufflepuffis are true

"And unafraid of toil;

"Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

"If you've a ready mind,

"Where those of wit and learning,

"Will always find their kind;

"Or perhaps in Slytherin

"You'll make your real friends,

"Those cunning folk use any means

"To achieve their ends.

"So put me on! Don't be afraid!

"And don't get in a flap!

"You're in safe hands (though I have none)

"For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

As the song ended, the Great Hall burst into applause and Calla and Harry glanced at each other in a mix of amusement and confusion.

"I'll kill Fred," Ron was growling. "He said we'd have to wrestle a troll. But we just have to try on some old hat!"

Personally, Calla thought this was a bit more than just 'some old hat', given that it had just sang a rather clever song for them all, but gave Ronald the benefit of the doubt.

Professor McGonagall stepped up the the stool, and conjured a piece of parchment out of thin air, beginning to read off names.

"Abbott, Hannah," she called, and a short, ginger haired girl stepped up to try on the hat, which soon declared her as a Hufflepuff.

Calla and Harry both watched on with amusement as the sorting progressed. Hermione was sorted, apparently to Harry's surprise, into Gryffindor, just a minute before Daphne made it into Ravenclaw, receiving boos from Malfoy. Harry stepped on his foot and he yelped, glaring at the Potters, but Calla simply cheered for her friend, despite how nervous she seemed. Not long after, Neville was made a Gryffindor, to everyone's shock, and the hat barely touched Malfoy's head before he was announced as a Slytherin.

No surprise there, Calla thought to herself, then scolded herself. If Daphne's parents were in Slytherin, and Daphne was nice, then surely her parents couldn't be bad. Then again, the Dursleys were awful, but Calla liked to think she and Harry were at least half decent people.

She was pulled out of musings by Harry, who nudged her. The entire hall was staring at her expectantly, and it was with flaming cheeks that she realised her name had already been called. "Sorry," she murmured, green eyes wide as she hurried to the stool.

Harry flashed her a thumbs up just a second before she jammed the hat over her head.

"Ah," the hat said, startling Calla. "What have we here - a Potter! Yes, yes, I remember your parents, two fine, fine Gryffindors. But what about you?"

Calla kept silent, quite frankly terrified of speaking.

"Hmm, there's a lot of loyalty here. You would defend your brother no matter what, though there are few you would really trust. And there's a resourcefulness, and ambition about you. You could be great in Slytherin, you know. Powerful." For a moment, Calla imagines going back to Privet Drive and telling the Dursleys that she and Harry were ultra powerful and could turn them all into slugs. She giggled at the whimsy of the thought, and the hat chuckled. "No, perhaps not Hufflepuff, then. And you lack the cunning of a Slytherin."

Harry wouldn't want to be in Slytherin, Calla thought to herself, and the hat seemed to hear her.

"Not Slytherin, then? Well, moving on. I see bravery here, you would do anything for your brother, and there's a need for justice within you, that won't be easily satiated. Hmmm... and Ravenclaw? Yes, yes, ticking all those boxes, too. Creative mind, you like to draw, don't you, and write, too? You certainly have the mind of a Ravenclaw, and there's a uniqueness about your thoughts that would be well placed in Ravenclaw. But still..."

The hat sat quiet for many seconds, and a sense of dread crept up within Calla. What if this was the hat telling her that this was all a mistake, that she should get the Hogwarts Express right back to Privet Drive without her brother. Just as she felt she was about to throw up, probably on McGonagall's shoes knowing her luck, the hat spoke.

"Well?" It demanded. "What will it be: Gryffindor or Ravenclaw?"

It's giving me a choice? Calla thought, surprised. On the one hand, Neville and Hermione were both in Gryffindor, as had been her parents and Uncle Moony, and Harry was likely to be Sorted there, too. But then she thought of Daphne, being booed as she went to Ravenclaw all alone, and felt a twinge of sympathy. She'd always have Harry, but Daphne didn't seem to have any Ravenclaw friends. She could always make some, though, and Calla so wanted to be with Harry... But he could make the choice, couldn't he? If he was given the choice between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, he could choose to be with her in Ravenclaw.

But what if he didn't? What if Calla was left all on her own with only Daphne, who might not even like her?

"Hurry up, Potter!" a faraway voice shouted, and she breathed in sharply.

There were so many what ifs, so many questions. This was not what Calla had been expecting - she was beginning to think that wrestling a troll would have been simpler.

"I don't know," she whispered.

"You don't know?" the hat cried, cackling. "This isn't the first time, believe me."

As thoughts and questions swam in her head, Calla blurted out, "Ravenclaw!" and the hat repeated it, just before being snatched off of her head for Harry to have.

She sprinted down the stairs, flashed Harry a quick, nervous smile, and flitted to the Ravenclaw table where Daphne had a seat empty. "You took a while," Daphne observed, and Calla nodded, attention fixed on Harry.

"I know."

Her brother seemed to be having just as hard a time as her with the hat, and it was several minutes before the hat shouted, "Gryffindor!"

Something in Calla's stomach sank as her brother went to join Hermione and Neville, though not without smiling and mouthing to her, 'Meet me after'

She nodded, as Harry slipped into a seat and vanished from view, though people were still chanting and cheering for him.

Calla didn't pay much attention to the rest of the Sorting, cheering half heartedly when Ron was put in Gryffindor. She and Daphne made idle chatter for a while before they were introduced to the other Ravenclaw first year girls, Padma Patil and Lisa Turpin. Padma's twin, Parvati, had been sorted into Gryffindor much like Harry had, and Lisa had grown up in the Muggle world, which Daphne found fascinating.

Just as dessert was finishing up, someone tapped on Calla's shoulder and she turned around, frowning. "Harry!" she cried, turning a few heads. "Are you okay, everyone at the Gryffindor table's alright?"

"Everyone's great, Cal," Harry laughed, hugging his sister. "Percy - Ron's brother - says we have to go straight to the dorms after dinner, but I wanted to make sure you're okay." He glanced at the table. "Hi, Daphne."

"Hey, Harry," she said quietly, not quite able to meet his gaze.

"I'm fine, Harry," Calla said, even though she wished she could be with her brother, at least Daphne had a friend. "This is Padma and Lisa, by the way, Padma's sister's in Gryffindor too."

Harry greeted them with a short smile. "Are you going to write Uncle Moony tonight or tomorrow? Only Ron says it can take a while for post to get delivered at night."

"I'll write him tomorrow, then," Calla decided. "I'm quite tired now anyway, but he'll want to know what houses we're in."

"Sure thing," Harry said, grinning. "I think I have to go now, but I'll see you in the morning, hopefully we'll have some classes together. Love you!" he finished, hugging Calla once more.

"Love you, too, Harry," she said with a smile. "Now go, I don't want you getting lost."


	5. Ch4 - The First Day

September 2nd

"Wake up, Calla!" a voice called. For a moment, Calla frowned in confusion as to where she was, but then it all clicked as she took in the blue and bronze decor.

"It's Hogwarts," she whispered, green eyes widening. "Daphne, it's Hogwarts."

"I know, right!" the blonde girl squealed, spinning around on the tips of her toes. "We've got our first classes today, too, I hope we have Charms - my mum says that was her favourite subject at school, even though my dad liked Ancient Runes best - or Potions, it sounds really interesting."

"I'm just excited to do Herbology," Padma said. "That was my parents' favourite subject."

As the other girls continued discussing their parents' stories of Hogwarts, Calla turned away with a tight knot in her stomach, pulling out her robes and walking through to the bathroom. She'd always had her godfather to tell her and Harry stories, of course, and they knew exactly when Lily and James had first met, and when they had first become friends, and when they'd first kissed, and when they'd gotten married, and all their favourite subjects and people, but it was different from actually hearing it from them. It wasn't something she generally missed. She'd always had Harry, and Uncle Moony, and that was a good enough family for her, even if she still had to put up with the Dursleys, and even if Uncle Moony didn't see them all that often; but she still felt something missing as she listened to the hum of her dormmates talking about their parents.

Remembering her pledge to write Uncle Moony in the morning, Calla quickly got washed and changed, letting Daphne into the bathroom before she walked over to her owl, Moony. Pulling out a piece of parchment and a quill, she began to compose a letter.

 _Dear Uncle Moony_ , she wrote.

 _I'm writing this to you from my house dormitory - Ravenclaw! I know it isn't Gryffindor, but all my dormmates are really nice, and hopefully Harry and I will still get to share a lot of classes. He's in Gryffindor, if he hasn't written you already - I'm going to remind him at breakfast, just in case._

 _The train ride was fun, we met lots of new people. There's Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and Hermione Granger, who are all in Gryffindor with Harry, and a nice girl called Daphne Greengrass who's in Ravenclaw like me. And Hermione likes Roald Dahl, too! I think we're all going to be very good friends._

 _I have to go to breakfast now, and then I'll have classes, but I'll write you this evening too if you'd like to tell you how things are going._

 _Lots of love,_

 _Calla_

Rolling up the parchment and tying it to Moony's foot, Calla sent her owl away and turned back to her dormmates, who were now all fully clothed.

"Should we go down now?" Padma asked, and Calla nodded, following the other girls down to the Great Hall. Personally, she had no idea how they'd managed to remember the route, but she was very thankful for it.

Finding four seats at the Ravenclaw table, the Padma, Lisa, and Daphne slipped into an easy sort of chatter while Calla thrummed her fingers anxiously on the table, watching the doors for Harry's entrance. She didn't have to wait long, thankfully, as not long after Hermione had come in waving to Calla and Daphne, Harry and Ron walked in, too. Both boys waved and grinned at Calla, Ron mouthing something that she couldn't quite make out.

"Your timetable, Miss Potter," Professor Flitwick said cheerily. Calla had found out last night that he was Ravenclaw's head of house and taught Charms, and was apparently very nice.

"Thank you, Professor," she said timidly, smiling shyly.

"And might I say," he added quietly, smiling at her. "I'm sure you'll be just as great a wizard as your parents were."

He chirped back along the table to hand out timetables, and Calla smiled, nerves dissipating slightly at Flitwick's helpful words.

"Ugh," Daphne huffed. "We've got Double Potions with Hufflepuff first thing."

"Is that bad?" Calla asked innocently, and Lisa's eyes widened.

"So you do speak!" she snorted, mousy brown hair falling over her shoulder. "We thought you'd gone mute on us or something."

Not quite knowin what to say to that, Calla nodded shyly and turned back to Daphne. "Is Potions bad?"

"Well," Daphne said, thinking. "It's not that it's a bad subject so much as that the teacher isn't very nice. Professor Snape, he's head of Slytherin, and he's nice to them, but I doubt he'll like us very much. Still, at least we're not Gryffindors, right? He hates them."

"Oh," was all Calla could think to say to that. She scanned her timetables, pleased to find that she shared Charms, Transfiguration, and History of Magic with Gryffindor, as well as Herbology with the Slytherins and Défense Against the Dark Arts and Potions with Hufflepuff. Even if it wasn't all her classes, at least she had half of them with Harry.

Finishing off a slice of toast, Calla stood up. "I'm going to see my brother," she whispered to Daphne. "D'you wanna come with me?"

"Sure," Daphne said, joining Calla. "But we should probably make it quick - I don't think Professor Snape would like it if we were late."

"Harry!" Calla called, making her way over to her slightly startled looking brother. "Morning."

"Hey, Cal," he replied, grinning. "How are you? Did you get an alright night of sleep?"

"Yeah," she replied, hesitating for a moment before slipping into the space between her brother and Ron. "The Ravenclaw dorms are so nice, and there's bookshelves all over the common rooms, I hope there's some kind of Wizarding fiction, though I don't know if they really have that. And the whole thing's decorated blue, and the beds are so much comfier than back at Privet Drive! How's Gryffindor?"

She'd probably never said that much in one go in front of anyone but Harry before, and Calla bit her lip nervously as her gaze landed on the others. "Gryffindor's pretty much the same, except for colours. And I don't think we have as many bookshelves."

"We do, actually," Hermione put in from further down the table. "It's just that most people don't-"

"Anyway," Ron said, groaning at Hermione. "What have you guys got first?"

"Double Potions," Daphne groaned. "Also, do you mind moving over a little? It's really awkward just standing here."

"Oh," Ron said, blinking in surprise. "Sure, I guess."

He shifted slightly closer to Calla so there was room for Daphne between him and another Gryffindor boy - Dean, Calla thought his name was. "What's wrong with Potions?" Harry inquired innocently.

"Apparently the Professor isn't very nice," Calla told him with a shrug. "I think it sounds interesting, though: a bit like cooking or chemistry."

"Huh," Harry said. "We've got Herbology, then Transfiguration. You guys are in that class too, aren't you?"

Calla nodded. "Have you met McGonagall yet? She's the teacher for that class."

"She's Head Of Gryffindor," Ron said, and Calla was mildly disgusted to see that he had a full slice of toast in his mouth as he spoke. "Fred and George say she's nice, but pretty strict, so you don't want to get on her bad side."

"Hopefully she'll like us, then. I've met Flitwick too, and he seems sweet."

"Calla," Daphne said loudly. "We've gotta go, otherwise we'll be late for Potions."

"Oh, right," Calla said sheepishly. "I'll see you two in Transfiguration, then. Enjoy Herbology."

With a quick hug to Harry and a smile at Ron, Calla left the Great Hall with Daphne, heading to the dungeons for Potions.

Outside the classroom stood a few Hufflepuff boys who looked over, caught sight of Calla, blew their eyes wide, and turned back to one another, whispering. She withered under their scrutinising gazes, wishing that Harry was here to distract her. As it happened, Daphne didn't seem to know how to react, hopping nervously from one foot to the other.

"Daphne!" a girl called, wearing a Hufflepuff tie, and both girls turned around.

"Susan!" Daphne called back. "How are you?"

"Lovely, thanks," Susan said. "Have you met Hannah? She's in Hufflepuff, like me."

"Nice to meet you, Hannah," Daphne giggled.

"Hi," the other girl, Hannah, said. "And who are you?"

Calla turned towards them nervously, very aware of the fact that she hadn't properly fixed her fringe today and the edge of her scar was likely still visible. "I'm Calla," she said shyly. "Nice to meet you?"

Hannah stared, but Susan elbowed her in the side and smiled. "Nice to meet you, too, Calla? Are you two excited for Potions?"

"Ugh, no," Daphne groaned. "I bet Snape'll be a nightmare. I can't wait for Transfiguration, though. Did you know McGonagall's an animagus?"

The Hufflepuffs both gasped, while Calla frowned, not knowing what an animagus was but still being too shy to ask.

Their conversation went on like that for a few minutes before a hook nosed, greasy haired professor swept past them, opening the door. "Enter," he said with a sneering tone, and they went into the classroom, Calla making sure to stick close to Daphne.

They took seats together, and Calla stared up at the Professor nervously, not knowing what to expect from his lesson yet. "There will be no foolish wand waving in this class," he sneered, and there was a rustle as students put away their wands. "I don't expect many of you to appreciate the fine art of potion making, but nevertheless..." His gaze lingered on every student for a moment, and Daphne tensed next to Calla. "I suppose for the select few, we had best get on with this lesson."

He went through the class register, stopping when he got to Calla's name. "Calla Potter," he growled slowly, meeting her eyes. "It appears we have a celebrity in our midst, class." Instinctively, Calla reached out to grab Daphne's hand, wishing it was Harry. Perhaps Snape had been expecting a reaction, but no one so much as tittered. "Tell me, Potter, have you bothered to do any reading before coming here today, or will your very presence be enough to earn you Os in every class?"

"S-Sorry?" she asked, feeling a tad nauseous.

"Potter, tell me, where might I find a bezoar?"

Combing through her memories of reading up over the holidays, Calla whispered, "A goat's stomach, sir?"

"Speak up, girl, for goodness' sake!" Snape snapped, and she jumped.

"A-a goat's stomach?" Calla repeated, feeling guilty for almost breaking Daphne's fingers off with her tense grip. "Sir."

"I suppose you're not as dunderheaded as expected," Snape sneered. "Still, you could try to speak up once in a while? Or are you so arrogant that you expect everyone to take time working out what you're trying to say?"

Calla didn't know quite what to say to that, and instead sank into her seat, wishing more than anything that the ground would just swallow her up right then and there. Hey, it was a magic school, wasn't it? It could happen.

"Potter, speak up this time: what would I get if I added infusion of wormwood to a powdered root of asphodel?"

A potion, Calla wanted to spit out, but she held her tongue. "I don't know, sir," she said meekly. "I think it's some kind of poison."

"Some kind of poison," Snape scoffed. "Clearly, some obnoxious scar doesn't make up for a lack of intelligence. Detention, Potter, for your inability to study before starting school."

Now, Calla didn't exactly think this was fair, but she wasn't about to protest and land herself in even more trouble. Thankfully, one of the Hufflepuff boys protested for her.

"That's not fair!" he said in a pompous voice. "I couldn't think of an answer to either of those questions, at least she managed to remember one and a half!"

Snape sneered - was he really wasting time on this instead of the actual lesson? "Name, boy?" he sneered.

"Zacharias Smith," the boy replied.

"Well, Mr Smith," Snape sneered. "You can join Miss Potter in detention tonight at seven o'clock. Don't be late. Now, if you would all be so polite as to stop wasting my time?"

No one spoke, and he took this as a cue to continue the register before putting up a recipe on the board and instructing them to brew it.

Calla scooted closer to Daphne so they could get to brewing, and she counted out the necessary ingredients. Personally, she thought that cutting the beets was far from the best way to get the juice out of them, but just as she was about to point this out to Daphne, she caught Professor Snape's eye and her resolve withered.

"Not awful," Snape commented as he strode past Padma and Lisa's cauldron. He came to a stop next to Calla and Daphne, and sneered down his horribly crooked nose. "Could you really do nothing to make this even slightly resemble the end result?" he asked, and some stupid part of Calla's mind decided to be 'brave'.

"I thought about crushing the beets first," she said, instantly regretting speaking as Snape fixed her with a cold glare. "To - to get more juice out."

"Were you questioning the instruction?" Snape asked in a breathlessly cold voice.

"I-I'm sorry, sir. It was just a thought, I didn't do it because I - I didn't want anything to go wrong."

"I see." With a wave of his wand, Snape cleared up the potion in Calla and Daphne's potion. "That's the end of the lesson. Miss Potter, detention tomorrow night and five points from Ravenclaw for questioning authority."

Calla's mouth opened in protest, but it was fruitless to protest. Instead, with hot tears burning at her eyes, she picked up her bag and swept from the room, heading towards Transfiguration with Daphne.

Tears were already beginning to spill down her cheeks when she crashed into someone coming the opposite direction, and almost cursed before she saw who it was. "Harry!" she said, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Call, are you alright?" her brother asked, green eyes wide with concern. "Why are you crying?" She noticed Ron eying Daphne suspiciously, but ignored it in favour of complaining to Harry.

"It's Snape. He's a total jerk, he gave me two detentions and took five points from Ravenclaw."

Ron's mouth fell open in equal parts awe and astonishment. "What did you _do_?" he asked breathlessly.

"Nothing!" she protested. "He asked me about bezoars and asphodel, and then when I only knew where to find a bezoar he gave me a detention for not studying enough. And then, when he said our potion was bad, I said I'd thought about crushing the beets first to get out the juice better and he gave me another dention and took off points for 'questioning authority'."

Harry's face filled with indignant rage, while Ron's eyes gained sympathy. "It's alright," Ron assured her. "Fred and George lost loads of points from Snape."

"They probably deserved it, though," Daphne huffed, earning herself a glare from Ron. "What? Even I know about the Weasley twins' pranks. And you weren't there: Calla was the only person Snape asked anything, he really did single her out."

"Write to Uncle Moony," Harry told her scowling. "He'll want to know."

"I don't want to bother him!"

"He'll still want to know."

True as that may have been, Calla still huffed. It probabaly was too trivial a schoolgirl matter to concern her godfather with, but she knew that if she didn't say anything, that Harry would write to Uncle Moony anyway.

"In you go, class," Professor McGonagall instructed. "You may choose your own seats."

Calla hurried in and sat next to Harry, leaving Ron and Daphne to squabble behind them. "I guess Ron doesn't like Daphne much?" Calla asked quietly, making Harry laugh.

"He has a thing about 'purebloods', apparently. He'll come around though; she seems really nice."

"She is," Calla replied, about to continue before Professor McGonagall cleared her throat.

Calla had expected their teacher to speak to them, not to turn into a cat. She supposed that was probabaly what being an animagus meant, and Calla had to say, she was impressed. However, McGonagall then went on to say that what she'd just shown them was very complex magic and that they'd just be starting off by turning matchsticks into needles. Calla didn't think that was nearly as exciting as turning into a cat, but overall the lesson was still far, far better than Potions with Snape.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of magic and joking, with casual interjections of Harry and Ron laughing over Quirrel's turban, which smelt of so much garlic they might as well have been swimming in the stuff.

Half past six came around and Calla left the Ravenclaw common room to go to the dungeons, careful not to be late. Making her way downstairs, she bumped into two red haired boys, who she remembered to be the Weasley twins, carrying an old piece of parchment.

"Shit," the one with a slightly higher pitched voice said. "Didn't see you there. Calla, right?"

"Fred!" the other one - George - hissed. "Don't swear in front of the ickle firsty."

"I've heard worse," Calla muttered.

"So, where are you off to, Potter?" George asked, smiling as he not so slyly hid the parchment behind his back.

"Detention," she huffed, folding her arms crossly. "With Snape."

The twins let out low whistles. "Geez, what'd you do?" Fred asked.

"Set fire to a cauldron?"

"Give him shampoo?"

"Tell him he was a right greasy git?"

Calla shook her head. "He asked me what I'd get if I added wormwood and asphodel together, and I said poison. Then I said I thought that crushing beets might release more juice than just cutting them, but he didn't like that so I've got detention tomorrow night, too."

"Even for Snape, that's harsh," Fred said, frowning. "Want us to prank him for you? Ron and your brother were moaning about it all through dinner."

"Thanks, but I'm okay," Calla said, not wanting to get into any further trouble. Uncle Moony had specifically said no detentions, too. "I have to get to detention now anyway."

"We'll walk you," George offered. "Can't let a little firstie get lost in the dungeons now, can we?"

"Thanks," Calla said softly, the twins following her closely down to Snape's classroom.

"Have fun with the greaseball," Fred said with a wink, before he and George turned back down the corridor.

Calla knocked timidly on the classroom door, and Smape drawled, "Enter," from within. Zacharias was already standing sullenly beside a cauldron, and Calla made a beeline towards him before Snape cut her off. "You two will be workin on different sides of the classroom, cleaning out cauldrons. There will be no talking and no magic involved. And Miss Potter?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Another five points off for being late to detention."

Oh, she was so going to write Uncle Moony about this. Part of her hoped that he'd be able to slap Professor Snape right in his stupid hooked nose.

Professor Snape glared as though he knew exactly what she'd been thinking, and Calla quickly looked away, turning her focus to her cauldrons. It was long work, and dreadfully dull, and so by the time that Snape dismisses them she was ready to collapse right then and there. Instead, she caught up with Zacharias outside, falling into step beside him.

"I - I didn't get to thank you," she said nervously. "For sticking up for me."

"Oh." Zacharias blinked once. "It's no problem. He was being completely unfair to you, and nothing I said to him wasn't true - I doubt anyone else in our class had any idea about those questions."

"Still," she said, "you didn't have to. It was decent of you."

"Anytime," Zacharias grinned. "Hufflepuff Common room's this way." He jerked his head in the opposite direction to Ravenclaw Tower."

"I'm the other way," Calla told him. "I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"Have a nice night," Zacharias said, before giving her a mock salute and turning down the left hand corridor.

It took Calla a little while to actually find her way to the Ravenclaw Tower, given the inconvenience that moving staircases caused. Whichever Hogwarts headmaster had thought of that would get a right kicking from her.

"Evening, Calla," Daphne greeted her as the green eyed girl collapsed onto her bed. "How was Snape?"

"He was Snape," Calla said, muffled into her pillow. There was a letter lying on her bedside table, and Moony stood proudly on the windowsill. "Did you bring this?" she asked the owl, who hooted. "Good girl." Handing Moony an owl treat, she opened the letter. Predictably, it was from her godfather.

 _Dearest Calla,_ it read.

 _I do hope that you're enjoying your classes, and that the girls in your dormitory are nice. I hope you don't feel too down about not being in Gryffindor. Your mother was very nearly sorted into Ravenclaw; I'm sure she and your father would both be very proud of you._

 _I doubt the Dursleys will have bothered to write you, but apparently Dudley's surgery went perfectly and he is now tail free. Also, tell that brother of yours to tie letters properly to his owl - it was nearly falling off when Hedwig got to my house. Write me back soon about how your classes are going, and if you need anything, please let me know._

 _Love,_

 _Uncle Moony_

After a short time of consideration, Calla decided what to write back to Uncle Moony. It was late at night, but Moony seemed up to a long flight.

 _To Uncle Moony_ , she wrote, dipping her quill in the ink pot.

 _I'm enjoying most of my classes. We had Professor McGonagall for Transfiguration, and Harry and I share that class, as well as Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms. I've got Herbology with Slytherin house tomorrow, and then Potions and History Of Magic with Hufflepuff._

 _You might have noticed I said I'm enjoying 'most' of my classes. I like Transfiguration and Defense a lot, and Professor McGonagall is nice as long as you don't get on her bad side, just as Daphne said. However, Potions isn't so great._

 _It's not the subject that bothers me, because I was quite excited for it - you know I enjoy chemistry and science at Muggle School. But I don't think Professor Snape likes me very much. He gave me two detentions today alone, and I've already lost ten points for Ravenclaw, and it's only the first day of term! I know you'll probably be disappointed in me for getting detention, but in my defense I think it was very unfair._

 _See, when Professor Snape got to my name in the register, he kept going on about me being a 'celebrity' and that making me arrogant, which is ridiculous because Harry and I didn't even know about who we were until a month ago! Then he asked me where to find a bezoar, which I answered correctly, but then he asked me what I'd get if I mixed an infusion of wormwood with powdered root of asphodel, and I said poison, and then he gave me detention for not studying even though I did! And he told me to be louder, and I'm trying, but I barely even know these people and you know I don't like talking in front of people I don't know._

 _Snape also gave detention to this Hufflepuff boy Zacharias Smith for sticking up for me, which was even more unfair! I have another detention tomorrow night too for 'questioning authority' because I thought that crushing beets to let out more juice in the potion might be a good idea, even though I didn't do it because I didn't want it to go wrong! Overall I'm quite annoyed, so I don't like Potions and neither does Harry, even though he doesn't have it until later on this week._

 _Sorry for the rant, but I'm just back from a two hour detention with Snape and in a slight bad mood. Everything else about Hogwarts is wonderful, though, even if Professor Quirrel's turban does smell a bit garlicky. I'm sure Harry will also moan about Snape, possibly making the accusation that he's a secret vampire - though technically Ron Weasley thought of that first - but he'll be overdramatic, so I want you to know what actually happened._

 _Also, Professor McGonagall is an animagus and she can turn into a cat - did you know that? I think it's really cool._

 _Lots of love,_

 _Calla Potter_

"Can you take this to Uncle Moony for me?" she asked her owl, who hooted once as if to say, "Of course."

Calla ties the letter securely to Moony's leg before the owl swooped away into the darkening sky.

"Don't know about you," Daphne said, sitting down on her bed. "But I really am exhausted. Night, all."

"Night, Daphne," the girls chorused, sinking into their beds and dreams.

 **Author's Note: Hi! Just want to first of thank everyone who's reading this, it means a lot that people are reading my work. Second of all, I want to say that as it is NaNoWriMo this month, I'm working on an original fiction project, and as such might not have very much time for this. Therefore, there might only be one update next month, but I will try to get something of this written for you guys. Thanks again, everyone! :)**


	6. Ch5 - Tea at Hagrid’s

September 5th

On Friday morning, an owl swooped down into Calla's soup and she shrieked before untying the letter that was around its leg.

 _To Calla_ , it said.

 _Was wondering if you and Harry would like to come to my hut for tea this afternoon after classes. Feel free to bring a friend with you._

 _Hagrid_

Calla grinned and scrawled out a quick reply, smiling at the owl before sending it back on its way towards Hagrid.

"Daphne?" she asked, turning to her light haired friend, who was halfway through a bowl of cereal.

"Hm?" Daphne asked, eyes glued to the newspaper before her.

"You know Hagrid, the groundskeeper? He's invited Harry and me for tea this afternoon after class, and he says we can bring a friend with us if we want."

"Doesn't he live in that hut by the edge of the forest?" Daphne asked, wrinkling her nose.

"Yeah," Calla said, frowning. "He's really nice."

Daphne huffed. "Fine, then, if you like him. Might as well ask Granger too, you know she helped me out in Charms the other day and I don't think she has any friends yet."

"Sure," Calla said. "We can ask her in Charms, then."

"Have you seen this?" Padma asked Calla over the table. "You're in the Prophet."

"The what?" Calla asked, glancing at Padma in confusion.

"Newspaper," Lisa said. "There's a whole bloody article about you and your brother. Apparently you two coming here is the best thing since the end of the war."

Not wanting to dwell for too long on the spite in Lisa's voice, Calla leaned over to make out the upside down headline: 'The Potters Return to the Wizarding World'. "Gotta give them points for originality," Daphne said with a snort.

"What does it say?" Calla asked eagerly. While she'd initially not spoken much to the Ravenclaws in her year outside of Daphne, she was warming up to Padma after a week, even if Lisa was a bit of a pain.

"Just the usual," Padma said. "A bit about your defeat of You-Know-Who, a bit about how you grew up with muggles - I still don't believe that, it's the stupidest thing I've ever heard - and talking about yours and Harry's sortings."

"Oh," Calla said, slightly disappointed. The Wizarding World really couldnt think of anything more interesting to say about them. "That's cool, I guess."

After breakfast, the Ravenclaw students headed to the greenhouses for their Herbology class with Slytherin. It was the only class they shared with the snake house, but it didn't make it any less enjoyable for Calla.

"Right this way, right this way," Professor Sprout ordered, showing them inside. "Now, we're going to be potting some Bouncing Bulbs today. I've put you into groups of four." Professor Sprout read off groups from a list, and Calla and Daphne both groaned when they were told they were put with Draco Malfoy and Parkinson.

"Potter," Malfoy sneered, and Calla smiled weakly.

"Good morning," she whispered from behind black hair. Daphne had taught her a hair straightening charm from her mother the other day, and Calla had to admit she didn't mind it too much, though her curls were far shorter and she liked them better.

"Let's get going then, shall we?" Daphne said, but Parkinson clearly wasn't letting her get away with that.

"We're not working with you," she cackled. "Slytherin deserter."

Daphne shrank back, as Calla stepped forward. "Don't be so rude to her, Parkinson," she said, and Parkinson snorted with derisive laughter.

"What are you gonna do, Potter?" she laughed. "I didn't even know you could speak. You know you have to speak to perform spells, right?"

Calla's eyes widened and she felt bile rise in her throat. "Shut up," she whispered, hiding behind her hair.

"I hear you've already lost loads of points for your house, Potter," Malfoy said, sneering. "And I thought you and your brother were supposed to be good at magic."

Calla didn't really know what to say to that, and instead turned her attention to her plantpot. "See, I told you, Draco," Parkinson laughed. "She's a total freak."

All of a sudden the room began to grow rather hot, and Calla fussed with her collar. She was vaguely aware of Malfoy and Parkinson continuing to taunt her and Daphne feebly defending her as she leaned over her pot, clutching the table with grating nails. "Oi, Potter," Malfoy said. "You alright?"

The sounds of laughter and chatter began to grow louder and mix together further, and Calla felt her pulse begin to quicken slightly. "No," she whispered, before turning around and promptly throwing up on Malfoy's shoes.

Malfoy and Parkinson shrieked while Professor Sprout came over to see what all the fuss was about, moving quickly to make sure Calla was alright. "It's okay, dear," she said in a soothing voice. "I'll get you to Madam Pomfrey."

Professor Sprout led Calla from the room and quickly found a Gryffindor prefect to take Calla up to the hospital wing while she attended to her class. Calla was only dimly aware of ginger hair - god, was that another one of Ron's brothers? - before she reached a bed in the hospital wing, lying down with a still racing pulse.

In the end, she missed both Charms and History of Magic - Madam Pomfrey had ordered her to stay in the hospital wing until some colour came back to her cheeks - but was able to go with Daphne and Hermione down to Hagrid's hut, where she was told Harry and Ron would meet them.

Apparently, Harry had wanted to come and see Calla immediately after Charms when he'd heard the news, but Madam Pomfrey had forbidden him from coming in until she thought Calla was ready, and he ended up ten minutes late to Snape's lesson, which the Potions Master hadn't taken kindly to at all, and he'd ended up taking a total of forty points from Harry and held him back at the end of the lesson.

The three girls trooped down to Hagrid's hut, Calla still feeling a bit shaky after Herbology. She made a mental note to at least try and apologise to Malfoy for spewing on his shoes.

Calla knocked on the door and stepped back. "Back, Fang, back!" Hagrid ordered from within, before opening the door to greet them. "Calla!" he greeted, enveloping the short girl in a hug. "And who's this you've brought with ye?"

"This is Daphne Greengrass and Hermione Granger," Calla said shyly, gesturing to her friends in turn. On the way down, Daphne had whispered to Calla that she thought Hermione had been delighted by the offer of hanging out with them, and neither girl had the heart to admit even to theirselves that they'd only really invited her because they thought she didn't have any other friends, which wasn't strictly speaking untrue. "Daphne's in Ravenclaw like me, and Hermione's a Gryffindor."

"Nice to meet you, Mr Hagrid," Hermione said with a grin, sticking out her hand for Hagrid to shake.

"Just Hagrid, please," Hagrid chuckled, taking Hermione's small hand in one of his giant ones. "Come in, come in. I've got some rock cakes for you all. Is Harry gonna be down soon?"

"Professor Snape held him back after Potions because he came in late," Hermione told Hagrid matter-of-factly. "He wanted to visit Calla in the Hospital Wing, but Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let him."

"Hospital Wing?" Hagrid asked, looking alarmed. "Gulpin' gargoyles, Calla, what've you been getting up to?"

"She threw up on Draco Malfoy's shoes," Daphne told him with relish. "It would been wonderful were we all not so worried about her."

Hagrid seemed to be hiding a smile. "Well, I just hope you're feeling better now, Calla."

"I am, thanks," she said, just as there was a knock at the door and Hagrid went to let in Harry and Ron.

"Calla!" Harry cried, rushing over to his sister. "Are you feeling better? What happened?"

"I heard you spewed all over Malfoy's shoes!" Ron added, earning himself a glare from pretty much every student in the room.

"Ronald, that's hardly the most important thing about this," Hermione said, and Ron groaned.

"What's she here for?" he moaned, slumping into a chair.

"I invited her," Calla told Ron pointedly. "She's my friend, and Daphne's. And to answer your questions, Harry, I'm feeling fine now, I just had a bit of a ... I don't know, I just felt off. Much better now, though, so you don't have to worry."

Ron still didn't look too pleased with Hermione's presence, but he didn't mention it again as the conversation turned to their first week at Hogwarts, and a lot of complaining about Snape.

"Did I show you the letter Uncle Moony sent back?" Calla asked Harry, frowning as she fished around in her pockets. "He said something about Snape."

"That's Professor Snape," Hagrid mumbled without much heart, probably still affronted about his treatment of the Potters.

"Ah, there it is," Calla said, pulling out the letter and holding it so everyone could read.

 _Dear Calla,_

 _I'm glad you're enjoying most of your classes. McGonagall was my Transfiguration teacher, too, and believe me we were all just as in awe when she turned into a cat for our class. As for Professor Snape, I believe I may know why he doesn't particularly like you._

 _You see, Snape was in the same year as us at Hogwarts. He was good friends with your mother before he, well, he went down a darker path. Because of this, he and your father never really got on and though it's all done and in the past now, I wouldn't put it past old Snivellus to hold a grudge like that against you and your brother. Try not to let it bother you, dear, but know that if he tries that again I will be having words with him and Dumbledore myself. Tell Harry that if he has any trouble with Snape, to let me know immediately._

 _Love,_

 _Uncle Moony_

 _PS: Does your friend Hermione Granger happen to have parents in the dental profession? Only I could have sworn I saw a dentist's with the name Granger on it the other day._

Snivellus," Ron repeated in awe. "That's brilliant."

"My parents are dentists!" Hermione cried, clapping her hands together in delight. "Can you tell him that in your next letter?"

Both Ron and Daphne stared at Hermione. "What's a dentist again?" they asked, and Hermione's jaw dropped in disgust.

"What do you mean, what's a dentist?"

"Never mind that," Harry said. "What do you think he meant by Snape going down a darker path?"

"Dunno," Ron said with a shrug. "He's a Slytherin, so he was probably one of You-Know-Who's Death Eaters. All of them were."

"Excuse me," Daphne sniffed, "but all of my family were in Slytherin, and not one of them was a Death Eater. We Greengrasses are more tolerant than them, and we certainly were not practitioners of dark magic."

Ron looked down sheepishly, ruffling his ginger hair. "Sorry," he muttered. "But he probably was a Death Eater."

"Now," Hagrid said, as though just remembering he could speak. "See here. Snape's no Death Eater, I don't want you five getting ideas about this."

"But, Hagrid, what if"

"No," Hagrid said firmly. "You ought to be getting back up to the castle now anyway, off with you. And take some rock cakes, too."

Calla hid a grimace as she took two rock cakes, thanked Hagrid for tea, and followed her brother and friends outside. Just before she left, she gave Hagrid a quick hug and skipped away, catching up with Harry.

September 6th

The Ravenclaws had flying lessons with Hufflepuff on Saturday, and Calla was equal parts nervous and excited. On one hand, she couldn't wait to get on a broomstick like a 'traditional' witch from the movies and Halloween, but on the other hand she was almost certain she'd fall off and make an absolute fool of herself. Daphne had no such concerns, it seemed, having ridden on brooms multiple times in her life back home. The very idea of someone riding a broomstick would have probably made Aunt Petunia faint of shock.

She and Daphne sat together on the lawn, waiting for the flying instructor to come outside. Daphne was braiding her hair - 'to keep it out my face when it's windy' - and offered to do Calla's, too, but she declined. So far she'd done an alright job of covering up that awful scar on her forehead, unlike Harry, and she was not about to reveal it now.

"Potter!" called Zacharias Smith from across the lawn, walking towards her and Daphne with his two friends in tow. "How are you? I heard you puked on Malfoy's shoes!"

"Does everybody know about that?" she groaned, burying her head in her hands.

"Pretty much, yeah," Zacharias chuckled. "I thought it was pretty wicked."

"Well, clearly she doesn't want to talk about it, Smith," Daphne huffed, and Calla shot her a grateful smile. "Look anyways, there's Madam Hooch."

According to Daphne's parents and Uncle Moony, Madam Hooch had been teaching for a number of years, and though she could be strict, like McGonagall, her main priority was the safety of the students she taught. She had short, spiky grey hair and a kind face, and Calla decided she liked her instantly, even if she wasn't sold on the safeness of flying.

Madam Hooch laid down about twenty broomsticks and told everyone to get beside one. Daphne and Calla joined the scramble, finding brooms that weren't quite as dogeared as the rest.

"Now," Madam Hooch was saying. "Put your hand over your broom and shout 'Up!'!"

As the word up chorused around the courtyard, Calla whispered it. The broom wriggled around on the grass, but didn't lift off the ground. "Up," she repeated more forcefully. Zacharias and Lisa had both managed to get their brooms in their hands already, and an ounce of frustration grew in Calla's chest. The broom was still on the ground, moving even less than it was earlier. She stomped her foot on the ground, as Daphne snickered.

"Calm down, Calla," her fair haired friend laughed. "See, just relax, and believe that the broom will come to you."

Doing as Daphne said, Calla rolled her shoulders back and cleared her mind of her worries over the broom and safety hazards. "Up," she commanded once again, and was delighted when finally, the broom flew up into her hand. "Yes!" she whispered, grinning, as Daphne cheered quietly.

The rest of the lesson passed in a fairly boring manner, and at the end Calla traipsed back into the Ravenclaw common room with the rest of her year mates. While she'd gotten to know Daphne, Padma, and Lisa fairly well, she hadn't spoken much to the Ravenclaw boys in first year, or the other three girls in her dormitory, and resolved to talk to them at some point soon. She was almost a week into the year, after all.

The majority of students had gone to the library, so Ravenclaw Tower was empty but for the First Years and two prefects playing chess in a corner. "Oh, don't let's start that Charms essay," one fair haired boy - Calla thought it may have been Terry Boot - huffed, falling into a chair. "Come on, I've barely gotten to know any of you. Sit down."

Calla and Daphne exchanged mildly bewildered looks, but shrugged and sat down in a circle with the others. "What's the point in this, Terry?" Sue Li huffed, tossing silky black hair over her shoulder.

"I want to get to know everyone," Terry replied with a shrug. "Seeing as we'll be seeing each other every day for seven years. Plus, we can get to know each other's strengths and weaknesses in school and work together so Ravenclaw gets more house points and better grades."

"Actually," Mandy said, "it's more like five and a half years once we account for holidays."

"Five and a half years, then," Terry sighed. "If you want to be pedantic about it. Look, I've got this book." He produced from his bag a rather beaten copy of 'The Hobbit'. He must have been muggleborn, then, Calla thought. Like Hermione was, like she was raised. "Whoever holds this book has to say their name, their favourite subject, the subject they find the most difficult, and three facts about them."

Great, Calla thought. Having the attention focused on her was inevitable given the circumstances, but it was far from her heart's desire.

"I'll go first," Terry said, clutching his book tight. "My name's Terry Boot, my favourite subject is Charms, and my worst is definitely History of Magic." Everyone chuckled at that - Binns was far from the most enigmatic Hogwarts professor. "My favourite food is pizza, I have three younger sisters, and a goldfish named Henry. You go next."

He shoved 'The Hobbit' in the face of a tanned boy with dark hair, who looked faintly bewildered. "Er, I'm Anthony Goldstein," he said in a quiet voice. "My favourite subject is Herbology, but I'm not very good at Defense Against the Dark Arts. My favourite colour is green, my mother is a botanist, and I have an older sister in Gryffindor." Looking how Calla felt - like he really did not want everyone's eyes focused on him - Anthony passed 'The Hobbit' to Mandy with a shy smile.

"I'm Mandy Brocklehurst," Mandy said, watery blue eyes glinting as she smiled. "My favourite subject is Potions, even though I hate Snape, I find it quite interesting. My worst subject is definitely Transfiguration, but I'm sure there will be a lot of oppurtunity to improve over the year and I'll be in the top of our class in no time." Calla saw Daphne quirk up an amused eyebrow at this, but didn't comment. "I'm very good at singing, I adore Gilderoy Lockhart's books, and my whole family have been in Ravenclaw for generations." Mandy held onto the book for a little while longer, before she handed it over to an amused looking Sue.

"Hi," she said, narrow brown eyes glimmering with excitement. "I'm Sue Li. I enjoy every subject, even though History of Magic is a bit dull sometimes. My worst subject is Potions, but it's still fun to try things out as long as Snape doesn't get too cross. My older cousin Angela is also in Ravenclaw, my favourite colour is blue, which is actually quite fitting for this house, and I want to be on the Quidditch Team next year."

From a couple people away from Sue, a sandy haired boy giggled and both Sue and Mandy turned to glare at him, shutting him up.

"I'm Isobel McDougal," Isobel said, takin the book from Sue. "But you guys can call me Izzy. My favourite subject is either Transfiguration or Herbology, and my worst subject is Defense Against the Dark Arts. My parents are both accountants in the Muggle world, I have a brother who wants to be an accountant, too, and my owl is called Bellona after a Roman goddess of war."

The book was then passed to the sandy haired boy who'd laughed at Sue's Quidditch aspirations. "My name's Michael Corner," he told them. "My favourite subject is Charms, but I'm good at all of them. My dad is an Auror, and my mum plays for the Holyhead Harpies. I'm also very good at Quidditch, and want to be a Chaser, like my mum."

Now it was Sue's turn to giggle, out of part spite and part amusement at Michael's arrogance. Daphne outright said to Calla that she thought Michael was a prat, and Calla would have laughed if she hadn't been too caught up in the way everyone who'd already spoken was now looking at her.

The book was passed to Lisa, who said her favourite subject was Charms and that her worst was Potions, and then told them that she wanted to be a Magizoologist, that her favourite animal was a unicorn, and she had two older brothers, one in Hufflepuff and one in Gryffindor. Then Padma told them that she liked Herbology and was bad at Charms, as well as that her twin sister was in Gryffindor, her parents were from India, and that she enjoyed dancing.

The book got passed into Daphne's hands, and the blonde girl shook her hair out. "I'm Daphne Greengrass," she told them. "History of Magic is my favourite subject, my worst subject is Charms. I have a younger sister called Astoria, most of my family have been in Slytherin, and my favourite sweet is Chocolate Frogs."

Then it was Calla's turn. Quite frankly, she wished the ground would swallow her up right then and there. "I-I'm Calla Potter," she said nervously.

"Yeah," snorted Michael Corner. "We know."

"R-right," Calla said. "Well, um, I like Potions but not Snape, so I suppose Charms is my favourite subject. I'm not very good at flying, or at Defense Against the Dark Arts, and I'm not the best at Herbology either. Really, Charms is about the only subject I am good at." She laughed weakly, but she was the only one. Everyone else simply looked at her expectantly. "Right um, three facts about me." Why was it that every interesting thing about her suddenly left her mind? The only interesting thing about her was that she and her brother had sort of defeated Voldemort when they were babies, but everybody knew that anyway. "Um, I like drawing," she said nervously. "And my godfather was a wizard, too, he was in Gryffindor. And I have a twin brother called Harry, who's also a Gryffindor."

"Gee, you have a brother called Harry who's in Gryffindor?" Michael asked sarcastically. "I never would have guessed it."

Lisa and Isobel both cracked grins at that, and Calla looked down with flaming red cheeks. "Yeah," she mumbled, fiddling with the hem of her skirt.

"Do you remember what You-Know-Who looked like?" Michael blurted out, and Calla flinched slightly in surprise.

"Um, no," she mumbled, hunching her shoulders.

"Is it true you've got that S-shaped scar on your forehead?" Michael asked then, seemingly fascinated by the subject.

"Yeah," Calla muttered, instinctively drawing hair further over it.

"Can we see it?" Isobel asked, eyes lighting up in fascination.

"Umm..." Calla shifted uncomfortably on the floor, fiddling nervously with her clothes. "I don't really like to"

"Is it true you spewed on Malfoy's shoes in Herbology?" Sue asked, and Calla sighed in relief that the subject had been changed. She nodded, and everybody grinned. "Wicked!"

"Not really," she murmured. "It was a bit gross, and I didn't even get to see the look on Malfoy's face."

"It was priceless," Daphne said, giggling. "I wish I could have had one of those cameras to show you a picture of it."

"That reminds me," Calla said. "I still have to go an apologise to him about it."

"Why?" Terry laughed. "He's an arse anyway."

"She still puked up on his shoes though," Padma pointed out. "I know if someone was sick on my shoes, I'd be a bit annoyed about it. If you want, I'll go with you to apologise to him."

"Me too," Daphne said. "It's almost time for dinner anyway, we should probably get freshened up and then head off, what do you all say?"

There were nods of confirmation as the students dispersed to the two different dorms, the girls to the left and the boys to the right.

"I still don't think you need to apologise to that twat," Izzy was saying to Calla, giggling. "But if it helps you to sleep at night, so be it."

The conversation turned to Quirrel's turban as the girls went down to the Great Hall, before Padma, Daphne, and Calla broke off and veered towards the Slytherin table where Draco Malfoy's blonde head sat.

"Er, Malfoy?" Calla asked timidly. Pansy Parkinson sneered at her from across the table, and Blaise Zabini watched on with faint amusement. Malfoy ignored her, so she tapped on his shoulder and he turned around, glaring.

"What do you want, Potter?" he asked with a sneer.

"I, er, I wanted to apologise... for being sick on your shoes yesterday. Believe me, it wasn't my intention."

"You ruined his best shoes," Parkinson said pointedly, and Padma huffed.

"I-I know, and I'm sorry, Malfoy. I didn't even mean to be sick anywhere near you, or anyone for that matter." She tried for a weak smile, and it looked like Malfoy may have been about to reciprocate before Parkinson opened her big gob.

"What are you doing here, Greengrass?" the brunette sneered, and Daphne rolled her eyes.

"I'm supporting my friend," she replied, hands on hips.

"Are Mummy and Daddy still upset that you're not in Slytherin. From what I've heard, you've let down the Greengrass name."

This was news to Calla, but Daphne's face went red and she clenched her fists. "Shut up, Parkinson," she growled. "You don't know anything about my family."

"Don't I? We did grow up together, after all."

Were it not for the simply thunderous expression on Daphne's face, Calla would have stepped in to defend her. As it were, Padma took them both by the arm and led them back to the Ravenclaw table. "Don't go getting into fights, Daphne," she hissed. "It's what Parkinson wants."

"I suppose you're right," Daphne sighed, though her face was still red and her eyes watery with unused tears. "I just... I have to go get a book from the library. I'll see you two later, okay?"

Before they had a chance to go after her, Daphne was gone, and Harry arrived with Ron and the Weasley twins in tow.

"How did your flying lesson go, Cal?" he asked as he noticed her.

"It was okay," she shrugged. "Took me a few tries before the broom responded to me, but it was fun once everything worked. Do you know when yours is yet?"

"Next Friday," Ron supplied, frowning. "With Slytherin."

"Yikes," Padma laughed. "They're a nasty bunch, aren't they?"

"You're telling me," Ron laughed.

"We've got to go to the Gryffindor table now," Harry said. "But I want to hear everything about flying after dinner, okay?"

"You're on," Calla laughed, parting ways with her brother as she headed towards the Ravenclaw table, still debating trying to find Daphne.


	7. Ch6 - Halloween

October 31st

Calla had tried to apologise to Malfoy, she really had. But no matter how many times she tried to speak to him and get forgiveness, she was either interrupted by a squealing Parkinson or a scowling Crabbe and Goyle, which was maddening by this point. As for Daphne, it seemed she really had gone to get a book from the library, as she never brought up the incident with Slytherins again.

By the one it reached Halloween, Calla had managed to become friends with all the Ravenclaws in her year, even if she didn't open up much to them, and even if Michael Corner still annoyed her and Daphne to no end. Harry had managed to get himself into trouble numerous times, though thankfully Calla had managed to stop him from going to a nighttime duel that was a trap by Malfoy. She'd given up on apologising to the blond boy after that particular incident, and her and Daphne's near run in with a three headed dog caused by Parkinson and Malfoy pushing them onto a staircase which led to the third floor.

Even though Professor Snape hadn't seemed to like her at first, he'd gradually began to accept and even respect her Potions skills, and as such she hadn't had quite as many unfair detentions or poor deductions. Unfortunately, Harry had taken even more of the burden into himself, and Calla had written numerous times to Uncle Moony complaining about it, though her godfather's social standing as a werewolf meant there was very little he could do about it.

By the time Calla awoke on Halloween 1991, the teachers who had known her parents were already concerning themselves with her and Harry's welfare.

"Surely we ought to make sure they are okay," Professor McGonagall pointed out in a Heads meeting. "It is, after all, ten years to the day, and now that they know the true nature of their parents' deaths..."

"I must say, I think Miss Potter is likely to be even more upset if we thrust attention onto her on such a day," Professor Flitwick said. He'd been paying particular attention to his student, and during the run up to October 31st he hadn't noticed any major changes in her behaviour, besides from her and her friends' growing excitement about performing their first practical charm work. "Mr Potter, however, I do not know so well."

"Is it possible," Snape drawled, as all eyes swivelled towards him, "that the Potters do not know the significance of this date? After all, they haven't shown any signs of being particularly upset recently, and I have seen no changes in Miss Potter's standard of Potions work."

"Surely they must know," Professor Sprout said, furrowing her brow. "And even if they don't, better they hear from a teacher than some silly fourth year who thinks it's a good idea to ask about it."

"I still stand that we should at least be a bit more sympathetic towards them today," McGonagall said, looking in particular at Severus. While she knew he had never gotten along with James Potter at school, he had not seemed to have gotten over their schoolboy rivalry when it came to the Potter boy's children. "If they feel upset, they should know that we are here for them to confide in, particularly Filius and I, as their heads of house."

"I quite agree," Pomona said with an affirmative nod. "Filius?"

"If you think so," he said slowly in his high pitched voice. "However, I'd advise against drawing any unnecessary attention to Miss Potter, I doubt that would help matters."

"That's that, then," Minerva said, smiling. "Now, go on, we've all got classes to prepare for."

"It's Halloween!" Isobel squealed, leaping out of bed. "Guys, guys, wake up! It's bloody Halloween!"

"It might be Halloween," Padma groaned, "but it's also seven in the morning, and I'm too tired to be dealing with you."

Isobel rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Patil," she scowled. "Come on, the quicker we get to class, the quicker we get to the Halloween feast!"

This certainly woke Calla up. Uncle Moony had always said that Halloween feasts at school were amazing, and she couldn't wait to experience one of her own with Harry. "Can't you tell your owl to come through the Great Hall?" Lisa whined, gesturing to Moony, who was perched above her bed. "It's abnormal."

Personally, Calla thought her owl was one of the least abnormal things about Hogwarts, but she just held back a sigh and took Moony on her arm, receiving the letter. It was from her godfather, as expected.

 _Dear Calla,_

 _I hope this letter finds you well. As you know, that time is coming up soon, so I may not be able to contact you for a few days. Please don't be disheartened by any lack of communication._

 _I'm glad to hear that you're making friends - Hermione and Daphne both sound lovely, and I'm sure you'll be able to become friends with the other Ravenclaws, even if some of them have been irritating so far. Believe me, I know the feeling: your father and a couple of our other friends irritated me beyond belief the first few months at Hogwarts, but eventually we became as close as brothers._

 _As you know, it's Halloween. Because I know what McGonagall and Flitwick and Sprout are like, they will more than likely be especially nice to you today. It's awful to have to tell you this via letter, and I'm kicking myself for not telling you and Harry face to face about it earlier, but today... Well, there's no easy way to say this, but Halloween ten years ago was the day that your parents died._

Calla felt a lump rising in her throat, but continued reading with a bitten lip.

 _I'm sure this has come as a bit of a shock, and I in no way would blame you if you're upset. I haven't been able to write to Harry yet, and he has kept up nowhere near as constant a correspondence as you have - you couldn't ask him about that, could you, I want to make sure he's okay myself - but when you see him could you talk this over with here? It would probably benefit you both._

 _I'm glad you're enjoying flying eventually, and I will try to come to the Gryffindor versus Slytherin match next month seeing as Harry is the Seeker, but if I can't make it ensure that you cheer twice as loud in my name._

 _Love,_

 _Uncle Moony_

Blinking back tears, Calla put the letter aside. The other girls on the dorm eyed her nervously, as if anticipating a reaction, and Calla realised with a start that they all knew. Those of them who had grown up in the Wizarding World - which was all except Sue and Lisa - already knew the date her parents died. Heck, they probably knew more about that night than she or Harry could even remember.

Feeling tears begin to spill over her cheeks, Calla snatched up her robes and hunched over her shoulders, shuffling her way into the bathroom and locking the door behind her. She leant against the wall for a moment, before collecting herself and pulling on her robes. Tears still spilled on her cheeks and she wiped them away, noticing a slight red puffiness. Thankfully, she'd put all of her books in her bag the night before and so she simply grabbed the bag and Uncle Moony's letter before leaving the dorm on her own and making her way to the Great Hall.

On her way down she ran into Harry and Ron, who were being followed by Hermione, talking very loudly about their Charms work. "Cal!" Harry called, grinning. "Happy Halloween!" So, he clearly didn't know about the significance of today yet.

"Yeah," Calla mumbled, and Harry frowned. He gestured for Ron to go on, and after a moment of hesitation he did. Hermione threw Calla a concerned look, but she waved her off and with a masterfully stern 'we'll talk about this later' look, the frizzy haired Gryffindor went on her way.

"What's wrong, Cal?" he asked, the two of them in a small alcove. "Has something happened?"

"Oh, Harry," she said softly, leaning her head on her brother's shoulder. They hadn't been alone and close like this in a while - there was always either Ron or Daphne or Hermione with them - and Calla found for a moment that she did miss it. "No one's told you, have they?"

"Told me what?" Harry asked, perplexed.

"I - I got a letter from Uncle Moony. Basically... the night our parents died... it was Halloween."

"Oh." Harry's concerned face fell into his own expression of sadness, and he looked down at his shoes. "I didn't... I didn't know..."

"I just found out this morning," Calla said, as Harry wrapped a comforting arm around her. "Everyone else knew. All the girls in my dorm, Padma and Daphne and Isobel and Mandy... I could tell, they were watching me, waiting for me to say something, waiting for me to react..."

Harry didn't say anything, but his green eyes were wide with sorrow. "Oh, Calla," he whispered, and they wrapped arms around one another in a tight embrace. "Do you... do you ever wonder what they would have been like? If they hadn't, you know..."

"They would have been amazing," Calla sobbed. "That's what Uncle Moony always says. The best parents in the world. Dad would be so proud of you, youngest Quidditch player in a century. And Uncle Moony says that Mum's best subject was Potions, too, and that we've both got her exact eyes." She swallowed down a lump in her throat.

"They'd love you," Harry whispered. "You're one of the smartest in our year, and you're an amazing artist and Potion maker."

"They'd love is both," Calla said affirmatively, drying her eyes. "And they'd be amazing parents. Wonderful."

"They would have taken us to Diagon Alley and Dad would have taken us to the Quidditch shop and spent ages there!"

"And Mum would have taken forever looking over the potions and ingredients in the Apothecary, and choosing books out for us in Flourish and Blotts."

"And ice cream!" Harry cracked a smile. "I think Dad would have liked chocolate chip ice cream."

"Nuh uh," Calla said, giggling despite her tears. "He would see sense, strawberry's always the way to go."

The pair suddenly laughed, and Harry held his sister close. "We'll be alright, won't we?" he asked, and Calla thought she heard an ounce of fear in his voice. "We're always going to be this close, right?"

"Of course we are, Harry," Calla laughed, ruffling his hair. "Come on, we've got Charms first and Daphne and I want to get the levitation charm before anyone else."

Arms around one another's shoulders, the twins made their way into the Great Hall.

"What took you so long, Potter?" Lisa asked from across the Ravenclaw table, and Calla his her face, praying that she could conceal her anger at the girl. Why she sought to provoke Calla so was beyond her, but she still did it, and none of the others usually tried to stop it, apart from maybe Daphne.

"Was with my brother," Calla mumbled, hiding a glare in the Daily Prophet. Daphne had managed to convince her to subscribe last month, and she had to say, some of it was vaguely interesting. For instance, some band called the Weird Sisters had just released a new album, and it had been rated as eight broomsticks out of seven by the Prophet's music editor. Calla didn't know what was odder: the band's name, the fact that the Wizarding World rated music out of seven broomsticks, or that an eight broomstick rating was in a serious newspaper.

"Oh, of course," Lisa said, faking sympathy. "I heard all about today from Padma. It must truly be awful for you two."

Not wanting to give Lisa the satisfaction of seeing her red-rimmed eyes, Calla buried her head further in the newspaper's pages.

"You okay?" Daphne whispered, laying a cool hand on Calla's wrist.

"I - I think so," Calla said, lip wobbling slightly. "I will be."

"Good," Daphne said, smiling faintly. "Because I seriously need my Charms buddy for today."

Calla giggled at that, and by the time she arrived at the Charms class with Daphne, she was in a much better mood that she had been before.

"Morning!" Hermione greeted them both cheerfully, though even she was eying Calla warily, as though she were a ticking time bomb about to explode. As if she would have the guts to stand up and say what she thought of something in front of everyone.

"Morning, Hermione," Calla said with a smile, and Daphne nodded at the girl. Despite Daphne's family's less extreme pure blood views from the rest of their society, there was still a clear divide between her and Hermione. One which, no matter how much Hermione helped Daphne in Charms, still extended to classwork. The two slightly unconventional Ravenclaws were as of yet, still Hermione's only real friends at Hogwarts, but the three of them were, for the most part, content with that.

"Are you excited for practical work?" Daphne asked, eyes glinting. She knew that would send Hermione off on an amusing ramble about the proper wand techniques she'd looked up, which would unknowingly give Daphne and Calla an advantage without having to do extra reading.

"Of course, I don't expect to be able to get it right the first time," Hermione was saying, "but I'm sure we'll all manage it eventually, even if it does take a bit of work first. My parents always said practice makes perfect: do they have that saying in the Wizarding World, too?"

Daphne shrugged. "Kind of. It's more of a 'you will practice until you are perfect or Merlin save me!' but it means the same thing."

Hermione frowned for a moment, before she caught sight of something. "Oh, Neville!" she called, waving to the round faced Gryffindor. "I've still got that Herbology book that you left in the common room last night! You know, you're lucky I found it, some people may have just taken it without a word."

"Oh," Neville mumbled, taking the book shyly from Hermione's hands. "Thanks, Hermione."

"My pleasure," she beamed. "Are you excited for today?"

And she was off again: Halloween and Charms and magic, magic, magic! Honestly, Calla was just as excited as Hermione was, but she and Daphne just privately grinned at their friend.

"Hey, Cal," Harry said, and Calla startled for a moment. "Feeling better?"

Calla nodded, smiling at her brother and Ron. "You?"

"Yeah," Harry replied, while Ron whispered something indecipherable to Daphne, which she appeared to find amusing. "Do you mind if we partner up today? Only I'll end up with Seamus otherwise, and he has a tendency to set things on fire."

"Sorry, Harry," Calla laughed. "I've already made a pact with Daphne. But I promise, if Seamus sets you on fire, I'll do my best to put it out."

"That's not even funny," Harry told her, though the corners of his mouth twitched up anyway.

"Good morning, class!" Professor Flitwick chirped, gesturing for them to enter the classroom and take their seats.

After a quick introduction, they got to work levitating feathers. Much to her chagrin, Calla couldn't get it to move until at least five tries, but the floating feather was still the first in the class, and Flitwick beamed at her with delight.

"And look at that!" he exclaimed. "Miss Potter's dôme it, absolutely splendid. Just shows that patience and perseverance can help to develop skill in just a short space of time! Ten points to Ravenclaw for your great effort and skill, Miss Potter!"

Calla thought he was being a tad generous with his compliments, but either way she smiled softly at the praise, and Daphne grinned at her. The Greengrass girl had taken a break from her own feather to watch Calla's efforts, but now her attention had been diverted to Seamus who, as predicted, had set his feather on fire. Harry turned to glare at Calla, mouthing the words, "You'd have been a much better partner." She grinned back, sticking out her tongue.

"Stop, stop, stop!" Hermione shrieked at Ron, putting a hand out in front of his pale freckled face. "You're going to take someone's eye out, Ronald! And besides, you're saying it wrong! It's wingardium levi-oh-sa, not wingardium levio-sar!"

"You do it, then," Ron grumbled. "If you're so bloody clever."

"Fine," Hermione said primly, before smiling and levitating her feather with ease.

"And Miss Granger's done it, too! Five points to Gryffindor for you, Miss Granger!"

Hermione beamed and Calla shot her a thumbs up, while Ron slumped over his Charms textbook, sulking.

Once the lesson was over, Calla and Hermione were the only ones who'd managed to levitate their feathers, though Calla assures Daphne and Harry that she'd seen both their feathers twitch.

"I swear," Ron said, stomping up to the trio. "That girl does my head in." He put on a quite simply awful imitation of Hermione's voice. "'It's wingardium levi-oh-sa, not wingardium levio-sar!' She's a nightmare, honestly! It's a wonder she's got any friends!"

"Ron!" Calla huffed indignantly, but the damage was done. Hermione had clearly heard, and she scurried out of the classroom, disappearing from view. "Look what you've done!"

"It's true," Ron muttered, crossing his arms. "Besides, it's alright for you, miss ten-points-to-Ravenclaw. How'd you do that anyway?"

Calla shrugged. "Just kept trying, I suppose."

Ron sighed, but before he could say anything, Professor Flitwick spoke. "Mr and Miss Potter?" he asked. "Could I have a quick word?"

"You two go on," Harry said to Ron and Daphne. "We'll catch you up in Transfiguration."

The twins headed towards Flitwick's desk, and Calla felt a twist of nerves in her stomach. From the concern in his eyes and the sympathetic smile, it was clear he was going to inquire about their welfare given the situation.

"What is it you wanted to talk to us about, sir?" Harry asked, feigning curiosity, though Calla knew he already had a faint idea.

"I was, er, just wanting to make sure that you two were alright today," Flitwick squeaked. "I hope you don't mind, but I like to keep an eye on my students."

"Er, thanks, Professor?" Harry said, biting back a giggle.

"And, Miss Potter," Flitwick added, turning away form Harry with a slightly pink face. "Congratulations on your work today. You're quite an exemplary Charms student, much like your mother."

Something leapt in Calla's chest. Her mother was good at Charms, too? "Thanks, Professor," she said, beaming.

There was a moment of awkward silence before Flitwick dismisses them. "Just tell Professor McGonagall you were with me, I'm sure she'll be fine about it, go on."

Walking towards Transfiguration, Calla thought to bring up Hermione. "Do you think Ron really meant what he said earlier?" she asked, biting her lip.

"Probabaly," Harry said. Calla fixed him with a glare and he sighed. "I like her, Calla, I do, I'm not saying I don't. But Ron does find her a nightmare, and you have to admit, she can be a slight bit overbearing."

"She's just excitable," Calla argued. "Besides, Ron really upset her. I'm going to try and find her after class. I don't want her to think I don't care."

"I'll come with you, if you'd like," Harry offered, and Calla knew that was his form of apology.

"Thanks," Calla said. "How are you doing with your levitation, anyway? I really only saw Seamus' calamity. If you'd like, we could work on it together? It's quite fun, and I think with a bit of practice you could control how it moves, and that would be really cool! I meant to ask Hermione about that, actually - you know she's read about every book available on magic!"

"I'm not even surprised," Harry laughed. "And, sure. I didn't exactly do brilliant, so if you want to work on it-"

"Yes!" Calla cheered, grinning. "We'll start tomorrow!"

Entering the Transfiguration, Calla and Harry excused themselves and took seats, vanquishing their thoughts of Hermione's plight.

"Come on, Potter!" Lisa called across the classroom, smirking. Once again, Quirrell was an absolute failure of a teacher, and neither the Slytherins nor Ravenclaws were learning anything in class. "You're good at this whole defense stuff, why don't you show off for us?"

Calla looked away, cheeks flaming. Quirrell was stuttering, trying to regain some fragment of order over his class, but between Lisa's taunts and Parkinson's jeers, there wasn't much he could do. Anthony Goldstein and Padma were sending paper aeroplanes flying towards one another, under a mockery of the levitation charm. Daphne scowled at Lisa, and whispered, "Don't listen to her. She's not the best Charms student in our year."

"Neither am I," Calla whispered back, cheeks pink. "It was only one spell, and it was Hermione's first try that she got it on anyway."

"You still got it first, though," Daphne pointed out. "With patience and perseverance."

"Oi, Calla?" Padma said, leaning over the back of her chair. "You couldn't help me out with that charm, could you? I'm rubbish at it."

"Of course," Calla said, smiling. "What bit are you struggling with?"

While they worked through the motions and incantations of the Levitation Charm, Calla could block out the rest of the classroom and focus on her thrown together attempt at teaching, which was still better than what Guirrell was doing. Her 'students' now included Daphne, Padma, Terry, and Anthony, and with the exception of Terry, they were all managing to get their feathers to levitate.

As it was a double, it began to drag on a bit and once they'd all managed to levitate their feathers they turned to other conversations. When it finally turned to the subject of the Halloween feast, and Terry and Anthony started discussing trick or treating and dress up in the Muggle world, Calla tunes out. The Dursleys had never allowed her and Harry to go trick or treating or dressing up, and Uncle Moony never seemed available on Halloween night. They'd never understood why, but now Calla supposed it made a bit of sense.

"Potter!" snapped a voice, which broke Calla out of her thoughts. Pansy Parkinson stood above her, sneering. "Is it true you were the first to levitate your feather in Charms?"

Confused, Calla nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"That's really cool." Her voice was far from sincere, and Calla wrapped her arms tighter around herself. "Do you think your parents would have been proud?" And there it was; Parkinson's natural charm. "Oh, that's right, you don't know them."

"Leave it, Parkinson," Padma hissed, glaring at the black haired girl. "Go back to your snake friends."

"Oh, I don't think I will," Parkinson laughed. "I'm just having a nice chat with my friend Calla, here. Isn't that right, Calla?"

Calla slipped lower into her chair, gripping her wand tightly. "Leave me alone," she said, trying to sound brave though it came out as more of a whimper.

"What's that, Potter? You know, I can't imagine how it must feel to know that you'll never get to meet your parents. It must be awful, isn't it?"

Calla felt her head pound, and bile rose in her throat. The classroom had gone quiet and everyone was looking at her, even Quirrell. For a sharp moment, the scar on her forehead burned and she inhaled sharply, slapping a hand to it. Trying to calm her breathing, Calla closed her eyes, leaning back.

"What's wrong, Potter?" Parkinson asked, sounding genuinely curious. "Is your scar hurting?"

"Shut up," Calla muttered, standing up and grabbing her bag. Everyone was staring now, and her vision swam with tears of anger and grief. "Shut up!"

With an uncoiling of anger in her chest, Calla swept from the room and slammed the door behind her. For a brief moment she wondered if she'd shocked Quirrel so much that he'd faint or something like that, before carrying down the corridor towards the bathrooms, hurling herself into a stall with a sob.

"Hello?" a voice called, and she jumped.

"H-Hermione?" she asked incredulously, tears staining her cheeks and matteing her currently straightened hair. "What are you doing here?"

"Calla!" Hermione's voice sounded faintly shocked. "Was that you who just slammed that door?"

"Yeah," Calla admitted, looking down with a sheepish face. "I had a bit of an encounter with Parkinson in Defense."

"Do you - do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really. Do you want to talk about Ron?"

"Not really." There was a moment's silence, and then: "Actually, yes, I do." A stall door swung open and Calla saw Hermione's shoes underneath it. Taking this as a cue to come out, Calla took a deep breath and opened the door, green eyes meeting Hermione's.

"Hermione?"

"I just... I thought he was nice. He was my friend - you're all my friends, you know? I liked Ron, and Harry, and you, and Daphne, and I was proud that I did well because everyone says muggleborn aren't good but I managed to do it, and so did you, didnt we? And then Ronald" she hiccoughed, wiping her eyes. "He just goes and ruins everything!"

"Boys are like that sometimes," Calla said. "And girls, to be fair. Maybe it's just human nature or something rubbish like that."

"Yeah." Hermione looked down, lost in thought. "What did Parkinson say to you to make you upset, Calla?"

"Oh." Calla's face went beet red, and she looked down. She'd been a bit more forceful than intended, but she couldn't help it - this anger at Parkinson had just exploded within her and she couldn't stop herself. "I probabaly overrreacted. She said something about my parents, and I got upset, because, well, you probabaly know already..."

"Yeah," Hermione said, reaching out a hand to Calla. "I read it in a book."

"I figured," Calla replied hollowly. "Well, I just got really angry at Parkinson and I grabbed my bag and stormed out and slammed a door. It was probably stupid, and I should probably go and apologise to Professor Quirrel, I might"

"You can't right now!" Hermione said. "It's jut, well, it's the Halloween feast, isn't it, and well..."

She didn't elaborate, but Calla supposed it had something to do with Hermione not wanting to face anyone right now. She couldn't blame her - were it not for her guilt and the fact that Hermione was already there, she wouldn't have wanted to speak to anyone either right now.

"I'll find him tomorrow, then," Calla decided. "Hopefully I don't get into trouble."

"If anything, Parkinson should be the one getting into trouble," Hermione said. "You had a perfectly normal reaction, I think."

"Yeah." Calla noticed with a faint smile that neither of them was crying anymore. "Do you want to just sit here a little while longer?"

"Yeah," Hermione said. "I don't really want to face everyone at the feast. Especially not Ron, or Harry." She winced. "Sorry, I know he's your brother, but I don't know if he agrees with Ron."

"He doesn't," Calla assured her quickly. "I made sure he didn't."

Hermione grinned. "Thanks, Calla."

"Harry Potter!" Daphne shouted, whirling into the Great Hall. A few heads turned to her before looking away at the sight of her steely glare, as she made her way towards the Gryffindor table.

"This can't be good," Ron said nervously.

"Daphne!" Harry greeted. "How are you?" He frowned. "Where's Calla?"

"Good bloody question!" Daphne exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. "I thought she'd have come to find you!"

"Come to find me?" Harry asked. "How come?"

"Parkinson," said another voice, and it wa shuts them that Harry noticed Padma Patil was with Daphne. "She was going on about your parents, and Calla stormed out upset. We figured you'd know where she was."

Harry blinked once in confusion, then turned his glare to the Slytherin table where Pansy Parkinson sat, looking altogether far too pleased with herself. "No, I don't," he said. "But if Parkinson says one single word to my sister, I'll"

Sadly, they never got to find out what Harry would do if Parkinson insulted Calla, as Professor Quirrel chose that exact moment to burst into the Great Hall. "Troll!" he shrieked, arms flailing in the air. "Troll, in the dungeon! Thought you ought to know."

He promptly fainted, and the hall burst into chaos. "Order!" Dumbledore bellowed. Everyone turned to stare at him, but the four students linked hands, already knowin where they were to go. "Prefects will lead your house to their common rooms. Teachers, with me, to the dungeons."

"Follow me, follow me!" Percy Weasley called, and Ron made to follow him before Harry and Daphne tugged him back.

"Calla and Hermione don't know about the troll," Harry hissed. "And I need to make sure my sister's okay."

"I'm not doing anything for Hermione Granger," Ron grumbled, before Daphne glared.

"You owe it to her after what you said earlier," she snapped. "Even if you have to wrestle the bloody troll yourself."

Ron parked at the thought, but nevertheless followed Padma, Daphne, and Harry out the hall.

"Parvati said that Hermione had been in the toilets all day, crying," Padma informed them helpfully. "With any luck, she and Calla will both be there still."

The foursome made their way through the corridors, slinking away from Percy and towards the second floor bathrooms where Hermione was said to be.

Calla smelled the troll before she saw it. A pungent odour wafted up her nostrils and both she and Hermione gagged on it. "What is that?" Hermione hissed, wrinkling her nose. "Has the sewage pipe broken or something?"

"Smells like a troll to me," Calla said. "Knowing this school, it probably is a troll."

Hermione's face went white, and both girls grabbed their wands tight. "Should we hide?" Hermione whispered, and Calla nodded.

"In a cubicle, make sure your feet aren't poking out."

They jostled each other slightly and balanced on a closed toilet seat, holding their bags and remaining very, very still. For a moment, thumping footsteps receded and they breath in relief, but the next thing they knew the troll was standing in the bathroom.

Hermione gasped and the troll whirled around. Calla clutched her friend's arm, terror gripping her heart like a metal vice. This was just typical of her day, wasn't it?

Finding out exactly when her parents died, her friend upset by her other friend, Parkinson and Lisa being overall annoyances, and to top it all off, a ten foot mountain troll less than five yards away from her and quite possibly going to kill her and Hermione.

Both girls held their breath, hoping and praying to a god they didn't believe in that the troll would go away. It didn't.

The troll seemed to catch sight of Calla and Hermione and raised its club to swing, before four other figures burst into the bathroom. "Calla!" Harry shouted, and Calla could have cried of relief.

The troll swung around to face Harry and Calla shrieked, lunging forward to hit the troll's calf with her bag.

About a million things happened at once.

Hermione had tried to grab the troll by the ankle with Calla, but they'd both ended up flung under the sinks with Harry. Padma and Daphne, bless their souls, were shouting insults at the troll which Calla could barely even understand, while Ron tried levitating he club into the air. Calla grabbed Harry's hand and emerged from under the sink, prodding the troll in the foot and making it wince briefly with pain. "I'll get it!" Harry said, a second before the troll grabbed him by the waist and picked him up in one hand, Calla in the other.

Down below, Daphne was helping Hermione stand up, while Padma and Ron tried to do some form of magic that Calla couldn't make out. The troll squeezed her tighter and she screamed, almost blacking out in fear. Harry was battling valiantly, but she wanted nothing more than to run away at that precise moment. He probably would have, were it not for the fact that she was still suspended in mid air. "Let us go!" Harry shouted, and Calla spied the club lying on the floor.

"Padma!" she shouted. "Club!"

She seemed to get the message. Slowly, while Calla kept shrieking and feeling sick, and Harry attempted to negotiate with a troll for whatever mad, mad reason, the club rose in the air. Just as the troll noticed that his club was no longer at his feet - trolls were famously slow to catch on, after all - he was hit over the head with it and crumpled to the ground, taking Harry and Calla with him.

"Ugh," Harry groaned, having landed on his side. "That hurt."

"Just a bit," Calla agreed, huffing onto her feet. "Trolls are gross."

"Can we agree," Daphne said in a wobbly voice, "to never do that again? Ever?"

"I think that can be arranged," Padma said faintly.

"What on earth is going on here?" exclaimed a stern voice, and they all hurled around nervously. Professor McGonagall had just arrived at the scene, followed by Flitwick, Quirrel, and Snape, who was limping curiously.

"Ah," Harry said, smiling awkwardly. "You see"

"It was my fault," Hermione said, at the same time Calla said, "I'm sorry."

Professor Snape quirked an eyebrow.

"You see, I - I'd read about trolls in books. I thought I could handle it, so I came here."

"That's where she found me," Calla put in faintly, knowing that Quirrel would find a weak link in the story if she didn't. "I - I was upset in Defense Against the Dark Arts - Sorry about that, by the way, Professor, I really don't know what happened - and came here on my own."

"Yeah," Hermione said. "I said I could take it on myself if Calla left, but I was wrong. If she hadn't helped, and the others hadn't arrived, well..." She shifted uncomfortably. "I'd probably be dead."

McGonagall looked sternly at Hermione, over the rim of her wire framed glasses. "Be that as it may, Miss Granger, thinking you could take on a full grown mountain troll was sheer idiocy. As for Miss Potter," Calla kneaded her fingers together, "Running out of a class is still against the rules. Five points from each of you. And as for the rest of you... I doubt many first years could have taken on a fully grown mountain troll. Five points will be awarded to each of your houses."

Despite her own punishment, which Calla considered was probably deserved, Calla couldn't stop herself from breaking into a grin. "Now," Flitwick squeaked, stepping out from behind McGonagall and Snape. "If Miss Potter, Patil, anf Greengrass would come with me back to Ravenclaw Tower?"

The three girls nodded, trooping back towards their dorm with damp robes. Still, from that day forward, it seemed there was some newly formed bond with the six students in the bathroom. And as of Halloween night, they were friends.


	8. Ch7 - Quidditch

November 16th

The morning of the Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch March dawned bright and early. Despite the sunlight, there was still a November chill in the air, and out the window of her dorm Calla could see golden and copper leaves cascading down from the trees. "Morning," Daphne yawned, tossing off her duvet. Calla was already dressed, despite the other girls all being asleep. She was waiting for Uncle Moony's letter to come back confirming whether or not he'd be at the Quidditch match, and had ended up waking up early in her excitement for Harry's first Quidditch match.

"You're not waiting for your owl again, are you?" Daphne asked, giggling lightly. "Honestly, who are you even writing to?"

Calla rolled her eyes. "My godfather," she replied, opening the window to peer out. Still no sign of Moony. She slumped backwards, crossing her arms in irritation.

"You've got a godfather?" Daphne asked, and Calla could hear the frown in her voice. "That's not in any of the books."

"So?" Calla asked. "My favourite colour's purple, and Harry's is green, but that's not in any of the books either."

Daphne considered this for a moment. "Your brother's favourite colour is green?"

"Yup." Calla peered out the window. "The irony isn't lost on either of us, believe me."

They stood in silence for a few seconds, before Daphne declared that she was going to get changed and left Calla alone. "Hurry up, Moony," she whispered impatiently, tapping her foot on the floor. She wanted to get down to the Great Hall early, after all, because she didn't know how early Harry had to be at the Quidditch Pitch for, and she needed to wish him luck.

"You're up early, Potter," said Isobel's voice. "Is your brother excited for Quidditch?"

"He can't wait," Calla told her. "I just hope he doesn't end up getting himself injured or anything."

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Izzy laughed. "Say, you don't fancy trying out for the Ravenclaw team next year? It might run in your family."

Calla snorted. Isobel and the others knew perfectly well her feelings about flying - she didn't mind it if it was necessary, but she'd much rather keep two feet firmly on the ground. "I think I'll pass," she chuckled, as Daphne left the bathroom.

"Wait on me, you two," Isobel said. "Sue, Lisa, and Mandy said they'll go to the library today while it's quiet, and have a lie-in, so I'll go down to the Great Hall with you two and Padma."

"Cool," Daphne said nonchalantly, sitting down on her bed and tying the laces on her shoes. Calla still wasn't sure she'd get used to Daphne's regular clothing look. Today, for example, she was wearing a short black dress with a chiffon skirt and black tights, with a scarlet robe thrown over the top. There were gold ribbons holding her plaited hair in place, and she had numerous scarlet and gold bangles decorating her arms, which made an oddly satisfying chinking sound together every time she moved. And then, he shoes. Daphne owned more shoes than Calla had ever seen. Today she had on little golden ankle boots with a slight heel and red embroidery, something Calla would have never have managed to pull off. She supposed it must be a result of her friend's pure blood upbringing, but she knew how to dress well in any circumstance, even for a wizard. And wizards weren't usually very good with fashion, at least not in Calla's eyes.

By the time Uncle Moony's letter had arrived, both Daphne and Isobel were ready, and Padma was in the bathroom.

 _To Calla,_ read Uncle Moony's hasty scrawl.

 _Unfortunately, I can't attend Harry's Quidditch match today. My condition has posed some issues this month and as such I've been rather ill, too ill to present myself in public at your school. I'm incredibly sorry, as I would have loved to see you both in person, but hopefully I'll be able to make it to Gryffindor's next match. Tell Harry good luck for me, and I'm sure he'll perform spectacularly._

 _Love,_

 _Uncle Moony_

It was a rather short letter, and Calla would have been lying if she said she wasn't a tad disappointed, though she knew she couldn't blame her godfather for something so completely outwith his control. She wrote a hasty reply and sent it off with Moony, who gave on indignant hoot before flying out the window.

"Godfather?" Daphne guessed.

Calla nodded. "He was going to come to the match, but he can't. He, er, isn't feeling well."

"That sucks," Isobel observed. "Still, at least Harry'll have you."

"Suppose so," Calla shrugged, as Padma left the bathroom.

"Shall we go down, then?" Daphne asked, and the girls followed her downstairs.

"Morning, guys!" Anthony Goldstein shouted, as the Ravenclaw boy's left their dormitory. "Are you all going to watch the match?"

"We are," Daphne replied. "Sue, Lisa, and Mandy are studying all day."

Terry pulled a face. "I can't be bothered studying. What's the point in going over things we already know, when there's so much more we could be actually learning?"

Padma shrugged, leaving the dorm. "To make sure it sticks in our heads, I suppose. Still a bit annoying, though. Lisa's doing my head in by the way, don't know if you've noticed?"

While the others nodded, Calla stayed silent, following Daphne. "She's been a tight twit as of late," Michael Corner said, as if he wasn't the hypocrite to end all hypocrites with that statement. "I think it's to do with the fact that she's bottom of all the Ravenclaws in every subject apart from Herbology." They turned to stare at him, confused. "What? I was curious, so I looked in Flitwick's desk when he was speaking to Seamus Finnigan about why he should stop setting everything on fire. You're top of Charms, by the way, Calla," he added, and Calla felt a slight heat rush to her cheeks. She'd half expected Hermione to be top. "Mind you, Granger's top of mostly everything else, and Malfoy's best at Potions."

That made a bit more sense to Calla.

"D'you reckon they have, like, rankings of whose most likely to set the school on fire?" Anthony asked. "Because I think Seamus would do quite well in that respect."

Daphne snorted, and everyone turned to stare at her. "Well it's true!" she giggled, leaning over to give Anthony a high-five. "And Anthony?"

"Yeah?"

"You're officially my favourite Ravenclaw guy. Sorry, Boot, Corner."

"I'm very disappointed," Terry deadpanned, as Michael rolled his eyes. "Really, I'm about to burst into tears."

"Shut up, Terry," Padma laughed, shoving her friend playfully into a wall. Calla couldn't help but wince; even though she knew Padma and Terry never meant any harm by their actions towards each other, sometimes it was all too reminiscent of her childhood with Dudley, and she always took a minute to snap out of her thoughts.

"There's Harry over there," Daphne said, pointing to the Gryffindor table where Calla's brother sat, surrounded by Hermione and Ron. "D'you want to go over?"

"I'll get some toast first," Calla said, following the others to the Ravenclaw table. "I'm starving."

"Okay," Padma said. "But I'd be quick - apparently the Quidditch players have to go down quite early."

Once Calla had had a slice of toast, she made her way to the Gryffindor table, flanked by Daphne and Padma, dropping into a seat beside Harry. "You nervous?" she whispered, and Harry nodded.

"Don't tell anyone," he hissed, "but there's a good chance I'm going to be sick on the Quidditch pitch."

Calla smiled at him softly. "I don't blame you, Harry," she laughed. "But no matter your nerves, I'm sure you'll do great, okay? I'll be right in the stands cheering for you the whole way through, promise."

Harry cracked a smile, turning his emerald eyes on his sister. "Thanks, Cal," he murmured, eneveloping her in a quick hug. "Do you know if Uncle Moony's managaing to make it."

"He's too ill," Calla said, looking down. "He says he'll try and make it to your next match, though."

"Oh." Harry prodded At bacon with his fork but didn't eat anything. "Okay."

"You know he'll still be rooting for you," Calla assured him. "And he said to me to tell you he's sure you'll be spectacular."

"He did?"

"Of course he did, you silly!" Calla giggled. "Now, have you actually eaten anything yet, because that plate looks fairly untouched."

"I've been telling him that all morning!" Hermione butted in. "He needs his energy to make sure he can be at his best on the pitch!"

"Give it a rest, Hermione," Harry huffed, and Calla prodded him sharply in the shoulder.

"She's right, Harry," Calla told him. "Come on, just a bit of toast or something. I don't want you fainting on the pitch just because you didn't eat anything for breakfast."

"Fine, fine." Harry conceded, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. Calla handed him a bit of toast and he picked at it. Well, Calla thought, at least he ate it.

Harry had to leave soon after, and Calla gave him a quick hug and peck on the cheek before he left, still a bundle of nerves. "He's terrified," she observed, returning to the Ravenclaw table with Daphne and Padma.

"Like you wouldn't be?" Daphne giggled, linking arms with her friends. "I just want to see the look on Terrence Higgs' face when Harry gets the snitch from right under his nose!"

They all laughed then, robes whirling as they sat down at the table, waiting for the moment when they could go down to the Quidditch Pitch.

By the time they found Ron, Hermione, and Neville in the Quidditch stands, Calla's hands were about frozen off and she was really wishing she'd brought gloves with her. Still, the Gryffindor scarf she'd sneaked from Harry was warm and she held her hands in it, tying to warm them up.

"You guys took your time," Ron said, and Calla stuck out her tongue. It was refreshing, she thought, to have this wide group of friends around her and have the freedom to act like herself, like she always acted with Harry before this Summer.

"We prefer not to get unnecessarily freezing," Daphne sniffed, and Ron rolled his eyes. He still didn't like Daphne, for whatever strange wizard reason. "Unlike Gryffindors."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Ron asked petulantly, as Hermione laid a hand on his arm.

"Relax, Ron," she sighed. "We saved seats for you guys." She frowned, noticing for the first time the three Ravenclaw boys and Isobel behind Padma, Daphne, and Calla. "I'm sure we can all squeeze in."

Calla roared with appreciation as, shortly after they sat down, Harry came out with the Gryffindor team. "Go Harry!" she shouted, clapping. Her brother turned to her, and though she could tell he was nervous, he still managed to grin in Calla's direction.

A couple of Slytherins glared at her, and she resisted for a moment the urge to cower away form them. _No_ , she thought. _Why should they dictate how she supported her own twin brother?_

Before Calla knew it, the Quidditch players were rising up in the air and Harry was higher than all of them, scouring the pitch for any sign, any little glimmer of gold. She just hoped he didn't get himself hurt. It had been her primary concern when he told her about being put on the team - that and his stupidity in going after Malfoy outside, though she supposed she might very well have done the same in the circumstances.

About thirty minutes into the game, Calla was growing bored. Harry had barely moved, and she was struggling to follow all the other players. She recognised the Weasley twins as beaters, and the team captain and keeper, Oliver Wood, but she couldn't keep track of the three Chaser girls, who kept weaving and diving in the air.

"What's up with Harry's broom?" Padma asked, and Calla turned her attention sharply to her brother.

To her horror, the broom was bucking up and down with Harry on it, and he seemed to be clinging to it with all his strength. "Harry!" she screeched. "What's happening?"

Harry either couldn't hear her or couldn't reply. The broom jerked away and Harry very nearly went crashing to the ground, holding onto the broom with just his hands. "Hermione, are you doing?" she asked as her friend grabbed her hand.

"Snape's jinxing the broom," Hermione told her, fire in her warm brown eyes. "I know a jinx when I see one, now come on, we have to do something!"

Letting herself be dragged to the teachers' box, Calla frowned. While she didn't doubt that Snape didn't like Harry, it didn't make any sense for him to do this, especially not since he was liable to be caught; even a first year could work it out, though granted Hermione was more intelligent than most first years. "Wait, Hermione," Calla hissed. "Think about this. Why would Snape do this?"

"He hates Harry," Hermione said plainly. "And hes clearly casting some kind of jinx."

"Are you sure it isn't a counter jinx?" Calla asked. "It might not be him - or there could be something wrong with the broom itself and he's trying to fix it?"

"Why would Snape help Harry, though?" Hermione asked, frowning. "He hates him."

"I'm just saying," Calla sighed. "We should at least analyse the situation before we go in hot headed and do something that's probably against the rules anyhow."

"We don't have time!" Hermione hissed back. "What if Harry falls off?"

Calla had to admit: that was definitely not something she wanted to see. If only Uncle Moony were here - he'd know what to do.

And he'd want her to have all the facts. And not get into trouble.

"Okay," Calla said. "To maintain a jinx or counter jinx you have to be able to see the victim, right?"

"Correct," Hermione agreed.

"So we cause a distraction, make sure no one is still looking at Harry. We'll work out if it really is Snape later."

Though Hermione still seemed certain that Snape was to blame, she nodded reluctantly. "Your brother, your decision," she said. "What are we going to do?"

"You've read all the books, haven't you?" Calla asked, and Hermione nodded, eyes lighting up. "Then it's up to you."

Calla hadn't exactly expected Hermione to set Snape's bloody robes on fire, but it got the job done. Every teacher's gaze was broken away from the match and by the time they returned to their friends, Harry was back on his broom safely, and was diving towards the snitch.

"What were you two up to?" Ron asked.

"Saving Harry's life," Hermione told him.

"The usual."

There was great roar and Calla looked away from Ron to see Harry on the pitch, looking like he was about to throw up. "Harry?" she shouted, and he turned to stare at her, before opening his mouth like he was about to spew. "Oh no," she groaned, but all that came out was a tiny speck of gold.

"Harry Potter has caught the golden snitch!" the commentator, a Gryffindor called Lee something, shouted. "Gryffindor wins!"

The stands erupted into chaotic excitement, roaring and shouting and slapping each other on the back. "He did it!" Calla cheered, hugging Daphne and Hermione. "He did it!"

As Harry held the snitch up in his hand, the Gryfindors gave lions roars of appreciation, and Calla and her friends rushed down to the pitch to greet Harry as he left. "That was amazing, Harry!" Ron roared, thumping Harry on the back, and his green eyes went wide.

"Uh, thanks," Harry said, albeit slightly nervously.

"What happened to your broom, though, Harry?" Calla fretted, hugging him. "Are you okay? I was so worried you were going to get hurt!"

"So was I!" Harry said, looking down sheepishly. "But it turned out okay in the end - I just don't know what happened."

"It was Snape!" Hermione blurted, and Calla groaned. She really wasn't letting up with this. "He was jinxing your broom."

"We don't actually have any evidence," Calla put in.

"But I'm certain it was him. He has a motive, and I know what a jinx looks like; it was definitely Snape!"

Harry and the others looked between them confusedly. "What?" Harry asked, confused. "You think - you think Snape was jinxing my broom?"

"Hermione does," Calla clarifies. "I think he could very well have been doing a counter jinx or trying to help you in another way. Snape's a prat, and, no offense, it's fairly clear he doesn't like you, but I don't think he'd go so far as to actually put you in danger like that." She shrugged. "Hermione set his robes on fire anyway." She was still bloody annoyed about that - Snape could have been hurt, and if it had gone wrong it could have spread all over the wooden stands - but Hermione had been pretty adamant in her justification of her actions.

"My family knows Snape," Daphne said. "I don't like him, but I agree with Calla. He wouldn't actually try to get you, Harry."

Calla gave her an appreciative smile, before turning back to a rather annoyed looking Hermione. "I still think we should be wary of him," Hermione said, shaking her hair out. "Now, Harry, you should go and get a shower after that match or something, and Calla didn't you say we would see Hagrid later?"

"Yup, I told him we'd be down shortly after the game." She gave her brother a critical look over. "And I agree with Hermione, Harry - you should definitely get washed up. You stink."

"Gee, what a loving sister I have," Harry laughed, and Calla shook her head, pushing him in the direction of the changing rooms lightly.

"See you in a minute!"

Once Harry had left the changing rooms, the group of six trooped down to Hagrid's hut, smiling as they walked into the welcoming heat. "Afternoon, Hagrid!" Hermione greeted, smiling and waving at the jolly half-giant.

"Ah, afternoon, you lot," he beamed, turning around with a platter of what looked like his infamous rock cakes. Calla hid her wince, recalling exactly what put the 'rock' in 'rock cake'. "Hear' you was quite brilliant at the Quidditch, 'Arry,"

Harry blushed, and Calla grinned at him. "He would have been better if Snape hadn't bloody jinxed his broom," Ron muttered, and Hagrid frowned.

"What do you mean, Snape jinxed his broom?" Hagrid demanded, bushy eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Snape wouldn' jinx Harry's broom."

"Hagrid, all the evidence points to him," Padma said softly, large eyes almost patronising him. "We're sure of it."

"I'm not sure of it," Calla spoke up, and the others swivelled to her. She shrugged. "We don't have any solid proof, and he might have been saying a countercurse or something to help Harry, I don't know. Besides, he's a teacher."

"Exactly!" Hagrid cries. "What reason would Snape have to jinx Harry's broom?" For some reason, he didn't quite meet their eyes, and Calla frowned. Clearly, he was hiding something, but she didn't want to press - that would just make the others more certain of Snape's guiltiness.

"He was trying to get past that three headed dog on Halloween," Harry said, and Calla groaned.

"Not this again," Daphne huffed. "He was limping - maybe he sprained his ankle running up the stairs to save everybody's arse."

Hagrid's eyes glinted like he thought he should correct Daphne on his language, but he seemed to decide against. "Who told you about Fluffy, anyway?" Hagrid asked, and everybody swivelled to stare at him.

Calla's mind went into overdrive. When she'd told Harry about the incident with that dog, he'd said that he was probably there for a reason, and Padma had observed that it appeared to be standin on some kind of trapdoor. She'd brushed it off - it was a magic school, a three headed dog wasn't as exciting as it might have been - but if Hagrid knew about it, if he'd called it Fluffy...

"You called that thing Fluffy?" Ron was asking. He sounded incredulous, and Calla wasn't altogether surprised. Of course Hagrid would call it Fluffy - it was the most ironic name possible for a three headed dog that looked like it belonged in the Underworld of Greek mythology.

"It was guarding something, and Snape must want to get past it," Padma said, and Calla and Daphne both sighed. "Maybe it's dangerous! You know, Parvati says that Lavender told her that Snape used to be in the Dark Arts - Hagrid, what's in there?"

Hagrid, who'd been quiet for a while, now spoke up in indignance. "Don't go meddling, you lot!" he cried, wagging his finger in the air. "What's down there's between Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel?"

"Who?" Hermione asked, frowning. Calla could see the gears turning in her head, and she admitted she recognised the name, too.

"Shouldn't have said that," Hagrid was muttering. "I should not have said that."

"Hagrid?"

"Out of here, the lot of you," Hagrid said sharply. "Go on, and don't ask anymore questions!"

"But Hagrid, what about Nicholas Flamel?" Daphne asked, suddenly interested - maybe she just wanted to find things out quicker than Hermione did to satisfy her own petty competitive streak.

"Out!" Hagrid demanded, ushering them outside. "And don't get involved!"

The door closed in their faces and they all blinked in surprise. "Well done, you lot," Calla muttered. "Now Hagrid's upset with us."

"I'm going to go and speak to Parvati," Padma said decisively, as she turned on her heel and made her way up to the castle.

"I should, er, write my parents," Hermione said awkwardly, and Daphne nodded. "You too, Ronald."

"What?" Ron asked, quite lost as Hermione and Daphne both began to drag him away up the path to the castle.

"You really don't think it was Snape?" Harry asked after a moment of tension.

"I have no idea who it was, Harry," Calla sighed honestly, linking her arm through his. "But I don't think it was Snape for sure, because there's not enough evidence. It could just as easily have been one of the other professors, or some Slytherin upper year, or maybe the broom had a default or something."

"It's a great broom," Harry said. "Ron told me so - that's not the issue."

She could come back to Harry's over dependence on Ronald for his wizarding knowledge another time. "Okay, so maybe not that, then," Calla huffed, as they began walking up to School. "But we can't immediately decide it's Snape now, not until we've got all the right evidence. And keep an eye out, Harry. Just in case."


	9. Ch8 - Christmas Time

December 19th

The Hogwarts Castle had slowly slipped into the cold darkness typical of the Scottish Highlands, grey clouds overhead swirling with unfallen snow. Flitwick had come around the Ravenclaw Common Room earlier with a sign up sheet for students staying at Hogwarts over Christmas, and after a quick conversation with Harry they'd decided that, while the castle looked lovely covered in snow and Christmas decorations, that they should go to Uncle Moony's for Christmas as he'd invited them. As such, Calla was already deciding what she needed to pack for the couple of weeks away from Hogwarts, and what was safe to leave behind in her dormitory.

After a particularly exciting Potions lesson where they'd managed to successfully brew an Antidote to Most Common Potions, and Calla had for the first time secured five points for Ravenclaw from Snape, she decided to sort through all her belongings, some of which were scattered across the dormitory, to make packing easier when the time came.

She trooped through the tower and entered her dormitory, set on collecting stuff to her trunk before she noticed Daphne curled on the bed, sobbing gently. "Daphne?" she asked cautiously, moving towards the girl. "Daphne, what's wrong?"

Daphne turned to her, wiping her eyes. "It's - it's nothing," she said firmly, though her eyes watered and tears threatens to spill over dangerously. "I was just getting my Charms textbook to study."

"You were crying," Calla said, sitting down beside her fair haired friend. "Daphne, you know you can trust me, right?"

"I don't want to talk to you just now," Daphne spat, standing up abruptly, and Calla leapt away, eyes widening in confusion. Daphne seemed angry at her, though she couldn't work out why.

"What's wrong?" Calla asked again, frowning with an uneasy feeling in her stomach. "Come on, Daph, talk to me."

"Just leave me alone, Potter," Daphne snarled, and the vindictiveness of her voice made Calla startle. She caught the icy anger that flashed in Daphne's pale blue eyes and recoiled sharply. When Calla didn't move, Daphne stood up abruptly and whirled last, knocking Calla onto the bed as she passed and slammed the door behind her.

Calla's heart pounded. She didn't understand why Daphne was all of a sudden so inclined to hate her, or why her voice had been so cold, as if she'd never even liked Calla. She was still on the bed, sitting frozen and staring at the door. Years of living with the Dursleys had, of course, made her used to violence and anger, but that was from her relatives, who had never once acted like her friend. Daphne was different, and Calla didn't understand what was going on.

With a sigh, Calla made a start on packing the rest of her things, waiting until Daphne had calmed down before she spoke to her best friend again. Daphne had said that she would be going home for holidays, but maybe her plans had changed. If that was the case, Calla was sure she still had time to ask Uncle Moony if Daphne could stay with them, if she wanted to. She'd have to ask her later.

Once Calla had finished packing her trunk, she headed to the library. Harry was waiting for her outside of the Ravenclaw common room, as they'd wanted to check out some books before leaving for the Christmas holidays. Hermione had been insistent on this topic ever since Hagrid let it slip about Nicholas Flamel, although personally Calla was getting bored of it, and she knew the rest of their friends were as well.

Unlike the rest of them, Ron was going to be staying at Hogwarts for Christmas with his brothers, as their parents and sister were visiting one of his other brothers, Charlie, in Romania. Apparently Charlie studied dragons, a subject Calla was still fascinated by. Harry had offered to ask Uncle Moony if Ron could stay with them, but Ron declined it, saying that he always spent Christmas with his family, and Hogwarts was supposed to be nice at the holidays anyway. Calla thought he might have still been a bit envious over it, but didn't press the matter. Ron was, for want of a better word, rather tetchy around the subject of his family.

Entering the library, the twins found Padma, Hermione, and Ron already huddled around a table, alongside Padma's sister Parvati, who looked even more bored than Ron was. "Glad you two could make it," Hermione greeted cheerily, not even looking up from the large, dusty tone in front of her. "Are you all packed for the holidays?"

"Almost," Harry said, and Calla threw him a glare. He said that he'd be finished packing already. "What?"

"Boys," Calla huffed, taking a seat between Padma and Hermione. "They never do listen."

"Look," Hermione said, and they all turned to her. "I know everyone except Ron's going home for Christmas, but could we at least try and find out some stuff while we're away. My parents won't be much help - they're dentists - but you all are staying with wizards, right?"

She looked around for affirmation, and in doing so seemed to notice Daphne's absence. "Where's Daphne?" Hermione asked, frowning. "She said she'd be here. Is she still packing, Calla?"

"I don't know," Calla shrugged. "She was... upset, when I went in the dorms, then she left. I don't know where she is now."

"Oh," Hermione said. She frowned for a moment, as if contemplating this matter, before squaring her shoulders. "Well, I'm sure she'll be fine soon, if we don't see her then we can go and find her. But the point is here, we need to find out all that we can about Nicholas Flamel. Right?"

They all nodded in agreement.

December 23rd

A few days later, the Hogwarts Express pulled into King's Cross Station and Harry and Calla leapt to their feet. They'd managed to find a compartment to fit them with Hermione, Padma, Parvati, and Lavender Brown. Daphne hadn't spoken to Calla since their 'argument', and though she was somewhat concerned over this, she chose not to let it ruin her Christmas. It was the first year they'd spent Christmas just with Uncle Moony, as he'd invited them to his house, since the Dursleys were not fans of having the Potters for any longer than was necessary. Personally, Calla couldn't care less. She'd much rather stay with Uncle Moony during the Summer holidays, too, but apparently that wasn't allowed.

"Have a nice holiday!" Padma and Parvati called over their shoulders, leaving to join their parents. Though they had celebrated Diwali in early November with their parents after getting permission from Dumbledore, they were still visiting their family for New Year's celebrations, and were pretty excited for it.

Lavender was attempting to keep up chatter with Harry and Hermione about their Potions homework, but she wasn't getting anywhere, and looked almost relieved when she joined her family.

"Whereabouts do you think Uncle Moony will be, Harry?" Calla asked, peering around for his familiar sandy hair and warm eyes. "He said he'd be here already."

"Maybe he's just got caught up in the crowd," Harry reasoned. "We'll find him in a minute. 'Mione, have you spotted your mum and dad?"

"Not yet," Hermione replied, craning her neck. "Oh, wait - they're just over there. Come on, you can wait with us until Calla's godfather arrives."

Hermione lead them over to a black couple with kind faces, who welcomed their daughter with a warm hug. "These must be the twins Hermione told us about!" Mrs Granger exclaimed, smiling at them both. "You do look so alike."

"Is your godfather here, yet?" Hermione's father asked excitedly. "I really would love to meet him - he's a wizard, too, isn't he?"

"Er, yes," Harry said. He, like Calla, clearly thought that it would be against their best interests to inform the Granger's of Uncle Moony being a werewolf. "He'll be here in a minute."

A few minutes passed and the platform began to slowly empty, as a figure sprinted through the barrier. "Calla!" Uncle Moony shouted. "Harry! I'm so sorry I'm running late!"

He bounded over to them both, picking both twins up into bear hugs. "Merry Christmas!"

Putting the twins down, he looked up pleasantly at the Granger family. "You must be Calla's godfather, then," Mrs Granger said, smiling at him and not seeming to give a joy about his slightly dishevelled appearance. "It's lovely to meet you. I'm Jean Granger, and this is my husband, Robert."

"Remus Lupin," Uncle Moony said, shaking both Grangers' hands. "And I suppose this is Hermione? Calla and Harry have said a lot about you."

"Oh, it's lovely to know Hermione's made friends," Jean Granger said with a warm smile. "Now, I hear you are a wizard, too - tell me about this castle they've been living in, I hope they have preparations for flu season."

The parents began to strike up amicable chatter as all six of them bustled back towards the barrier, slinking back into the Muggle world. Uncle Moony was getting on like a house on fire with Hermione's parents, and as they parted ways they decided that they simply must meet up at some point during the holidays, much to the children's delight.

This was going to be the best Christmas ever, Calla decided, standing outside in the crisp London sunlight, moments before Uncle Moony apparated them away.

The twins had very rarely visited Uncle Mooney's house previously, only when Mrs Figg across the road was unavailable for babysitting duty and the Dursleys didn't want the twins inside the house alone. They'd had to go there on Dudley's most recent birthday, when he had gotten to go to the zoo, but honestly neither twin had minded much. It had been only a week or so before the first Hogwarts letters had arrived, and Calla realised this with a jolt. Had it really been so long ago? Almost half the school year was over already, but it had felt like no time at all.

Uncle Mooney's house had barely changed since June. The walls in the living room were still painted in a warm maroon colour, just a tad darker than the scarlet of Harry's Gryffindor tie, and the bedroom that Harry and Calla were to be sharing over the holidays smelled distinctly of new paint. Calla noticed with an ounce of satisfaction that it was her favourite colour, blue, rather than Harry's favourite green. Then again, in true Gryffindor style, Uncle Moony probably hadn't been inclined to paint anything in his house green.

Once the twins had unpacked their trunks in their room, opening the windows to get the smell of paint out, they rushed down the stairs and into the living room, where Uncle Moony was reading over a book. "You two unpacked, then?" Uncle Moony asked with a small smile. They nodded, and he shut his book. "Good. Now, which would you two rather do: go to the park, or visit Diagon Alley? I'm sure you both have presents still to get for your friends, and I've got a few things to pick up, too."

The twins exchanged excited glances. "Definitely Diagon Alley," Calla said, grinning with bright eyes. "Hermione mentioned something about needing new ink for her quill, and I'm sure there's lots of books that she'd like from Flourish and Blotts."

"That's it settled, then," Uncle Moony said, getting up with a sigh. "Come on, if you get your jackets and shoes on quickly then we'll Floo there for tea."

It took a short while for Uncle Moony to explain how Floo powder was used before they all successfully arrived in the Leaky Cauldron, slightly sooty but not altogether any worse for wear. "Where to first, then?" Uncle Moony asked.

"Dinner," Harry said instantly, and Calla giggled as his stomach rumbled and his cheeks went pink. "If - if that's alright?"

Uncle Moony snorted with barely concealed laughter. "Of course, Harry. Matter of fact, I was getting hungry myself."

They managed to find space in a little booth for the three of them to sit, looking at menus. Harry's eyes were still wide after the excitement of the Floo powder, as he peered down at the menu.

"Can I take your orders, please?" asked a waitress, who smiled at them like she'd rather be anywhere else.

"Cal?" Harry asked, prompting her to speak.

"Er, I'll just have the Shepherd' Pie, please," she said in a quiet voice, as the waitress frowned.

"Can you repeat that, love?" she asked, and Calla gritted her teeth.

"She said Shepherd's Pie," Harry supplied, and the waitress's eyes opened in wonder when she looked at him.

"Are you-" she seemed to choke for a moment. "Are you Harry Potter?"

Harry stared at her. "Yeah."

The waitress's mouth fell open, and she whirled around to stare at Calla. "And so you must be Calla, right?" Calla nodded timidly. "Blimey. D'you mind, my mum'd love to know I've met you two, could you sign this?"

She thrust a scrap piece of parchment under Harry's nose, and both twins stared at it like it was a time bomb, just waiting for the right moment to go off. "Uh, I don't-"

"They're eleven," Uncle Moony said, frowning at the waitress. "We'd appreciate if you didn't bother for an autograph."

The waitress nodded sharply, snatching back the piece of parchment. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "Wasn't thinking. Of course. Shepherd's Pie: who else?"

"I'll have the same," Harry said, and Uncle Moony nodded affirmatively.

"Three shepherd's pies then," he said, handing the waitress their menus.

"Of course, sir. Any drinks I could get you - butter beer, perhaps?"

Calla and Harry both perked up at that. Butter beer? They hadn't heard of that before, but it definitely sounded interesting. "Three butterbeers, and a jug of gillywater, then," Uncle Moony said, still maintaining a placid smile. "Thank you."

As the waitress left and brought them their drinks, the conversation turned towards Hogwarts. "So, then Ron said that he'd be my second," Harry was saying, as Calla rolled her eyes. It was the truly wonderful story of how Harry had almost gotten himself into yet another detention by starting a bloody midnight duel with Draco Malfoy. Thankfully, Daphne wasn't stupid and had cottoned on to exactly what Malfoy's plan was, stopping Harry and Ron from being absolute idiots and getting caught out of bed at night. "So it turned out alright in the end," Harry finished. "Thanks to Calla and Daphne, that is."

"Mostly Daphne, to be honest," Calla said, and she supposed there must have been an edge to her voice as both Harry and Uncle Moony frowned at her. "What?"

"No, it's just..." Harry paused. "I was wondering where Daphne got to on the Express. I haven't actually seen her much the last few days."

Calla shrugged. She'd been trying not to think about Daphne, but it had proven difficult recently and she had to admit, she was worried about it. "She and I had a - a bit of an argument at the end of term," she admitted, and both her brother and her godfather frowned as though they disapproved deeply of her. "I don't know what happened - she had a letter and looked upset, but when I tried to reach out to her she just snapped." She looked down, feeling tears prick at her eyes though she pushed them away. "We havent spoken since."

"Do you know what the letter was about?" Uncle Moony asked, in a kind voice that didn't seem to match his frowning eyes.

"No," Calla scoffed. "She wouldn't tell me. I just know that clearly, it upset her, but she doesn't want to talk about it. She's avoiding me too - I only see her in the dorms at night."

"Do you think you could try and talk to her after you've gone back, once she's had a bit of reflection on whatever the issue was? Or you could send a letter, you both still have your owls with you."

Calla shook her head. "She's the one who doesn't want to talk to me. When she's ready, I think she'll come and find me, or Hermione, or Padma. Or Harry," she added as an afterthought, which made her brother laugh.

"She still doesn't much like Ron, does she?" Harry asked, chuckling.

"It's not that," Calla huffed. "She just has a sort of expectation of him that is hard to get over - you know his family are known as blood traitors. The Greengrasses aren't as extreme as others, but Ron and Hermione are still ... different to her. She likes Hermione because Hermione isn't as much of a prat all the time."

"Ron's not a prat!" Harry insisted.

"He is sometimes," Calla replied, smirking. "Don't get me wrong, I love him too, but he's still a prat."

Just then, the waitress set down their meals and left them to it, though Calla noticed she still kept a watch on them with curious eyes.

Once they'd had their food, the trio went out into the Main Street. It was becoming dark now, but the magical lights that hung overhead like constellations illuminated the whole scene, and it might as well have been noon. "Five o'clock," Uncle Moony said, checking his watch. "What do you two say we meet back at the Leaky Cauldron for half past six? I trust that you two can look after yourselves for a bit while I run a couple of errands."

"Of course," Harry said, a little too enthusiastic for Calla's tastes as he looked over at Quality Quidditch Supplies. There was no way in hell he was going to get her on a broom, or drag her around the shop for an hour and a half.

"Thank you, Uncle Moony," Calla said politely, hugging her godfather tightly for a few seconds. "Come on, Harry, you've got the money. We're going to Flourish and Blott's first, then Scrivener's Quills."

"What about Quality Quidditch Supplies?" Harry asked petulantly, earning a chuckle from Uncle Moony.

"If we go in there, you'll never leave," Calla reasoned. "Only if we have time."

"I'll leave you two to it," Uncle Moony decided with a smirk, heading in the direction of the Apothecary.

"Come on, Harry," Calla sighed, grabbing her still complaining brother's hand. "Let's look at some books for Hermione!"

He groaned, but went on willingly.

Though the bookshop was almost deserted, there was still a warm comfort that surrounded it as Calla and Harry delved inside. "Right," Calla said. "Hermione enjoys History of Magic, so we could get her a book to do with that, though she's always saying that she wants to do better in Potions since Malfoy's always beating her out for top spot and Snape hates all you Gryffindors, so maybe a couple of books on each? And then, of course, the ink."

"Wait, is this from both of us?" Harry asked, sounding surprised, and Calla stared at her.

"What, have you managed to find your own gifts for everyone?" Harry looked down sheepishly. "Thought not. Now, moving on to Padma. She said that she wants to do better in Herbology, so I could get her a book about that, but then her favourite subject is Charms, and Uncle Moony told me about a very handy study guide for that in a letter..." She trailed off, musing as she browsed the shelves. "Then again, would it be proper to get Padma something? She celebrates Diwali, but that was is November this year and I'm not sure if it's customary to exchange gifts for that or not."

She looked to Harry for an answer, but he was still staring at her. "In what world are books a good present for everyone? I'd much rather sweets or some Quidditch stuff."

"When all your friends are interested in them," Calla replied, biting that extra hint of information for later. "Besides, I'll get them other things besides books to go in with it, and I'm not getting a book for Ron, because I know he won't appreciate it like Hermione, Padma, and Daphne will. Which reminds me - did you see any jewellery shops around here? Only I think Daphne would appreciate earrings or something."

"We're still getting her a present?" Harry asked, confused.

"Obviously," Calla said, rolling her eyes. "She's still our friend. Now, we still haven't decided about Padma."

"I'm sure I overheard Parvati talking to Lavender about a gift she got for Diwali once," Harry said, concentrating. "So, yes. Even though it's a bit late, I think she'll appreciate the gesture."

"Good," Calla said. It felt strangely good to be doing this; shopping for Christmas and Diwali gifts for all of her friends. She and Harry had barely had money to spend on themselves before, other than the odd fifty pence for Christmas or a birthday, and now that they'd discovered their fortunes in Gringotts, Calla was determined to spend her money well. And, in the mind of an eleven year old girl, this meant spending as much as she wanted on her friends. "So, that's settled. The History and Potions books for Hermione, and the Charms book for Padma, then?" Harry nodded. "Great. The Charms one was called A Witch's Guide to Proficiency in Charms, see if you can find it anywhere."

It didn't take long for them to find all the books they needed in Flourish and Blotts, and Calla noticed with a smirk that Harry had stayed behind to 'tie his shoelace' and left with a slightly lighter money bag and a book shaped item stowed under his cloak.

"Scrivener's next," Calla declared, setting off towards the stationery shop. "I saw this nice colour changing ink, I think Hermione would like that, in addition to a practical ink. Also, see if there's any pretty quills in there - remember, her favourite colour is orange."

"Orange," Harry wrinkled his nose. "How'd you know that?"

"I asked," Calla said simply, and he looked vaguely confused by this declaration. "Oh, come on, Harry. Don't you want to know who we're spending all our time with. I've got a whole notebook of everyone's likes and dislikes in my trunk, and what subjects thy like and what they struggle with for future reference."

"Why?" Harry asked, and she shrugged.

"It could come in handy." Okay, she wa seeing honest here. "And I've been curious." She pushed open the door to the rather run down little store. "Now: orange quills. Got it?"

"Got it," Harry replied, grinning.

Once they'd finished all of their shopping - the books, a quill and three pots of ink for Hermione, Padma's charm book and a pretty red scarf, a set of amethyst earrings for Daphne, and a whole basket of sweets for Ron. Calla had also picked up a few pretty quills for Izzy, Sue, and Mandy, not bothering herself about Lisa, as well as some chocolates for Terry, Anthony, and Zacharias Smith. Both twins still needed to get presents for each other and Uncle Moony, so split up at six o'clock, promising to meet a few minutes before half past.

The second Harry disappeared, Calla ducked into Quality Quidditch Supplies. The shop was filled to the brim with broomsticks, quaffles, bludgers, répit kits, gloves, and a million other things Calla couldn't begin to think about using.

"Alright there?" a young man asked from behind the counter. "Anything you're looking for in particular?"

"I'm just looking, thanks," Calla said sweetly. "Do you have anything specific to Seekers? That's my brother's position."

"Of course, Miss," the young man said. "We've got 'Quidditch Through the Ages: Seeker's Edition' which has a lot about snitches and the evolution of the Seeker position, as well as some practice snitches that don't have the flesh memories installed. Or there's the broomstick repair kit, and we've got some scarves used specially for Quidditch that won't fly off in the wind, but still keep you warm. Say, what Hogwarts house is your brother in? Assuming he's at Hogwarts, still."

"He's in Gryffindor," Calla said casually, before realising exactly what that meant to the man before her. Really, people had to stop doing the whole gaping goldfish thing.

"Hes - he's the Gryffindor Seeker? The current one?"

"He's Harry Potter, yes," Calla sighed. She didn't like how the man was looking at her now - judging rather than kindly, like he was sizing her up and trying to work out exactly who and what she was. "I'm Calla, it's nice to meet you."

"A - and you, Miss Potter," the man said, blinking slowly to recover from his momentary shock. "Er, So, back to Quidditch. Gryffindor, yes? Yes, of course, sorry. What would you like?"

She debated inwardly for a moment. "I think the Broomstick Repair Kit." Knowing Harry, he'd need it at some point. "And the scarf could be useful, too, a Gryffindor one."

"Of course, Miss," the man said, thankfully over his initial shock. "I'll fetch those for you and get you at the till, Okay? If there's anything else you need, just shout."

"Thanks," Calla smiled, though she didn't want to spend much more time in the Quidditch shop with all those bloody brooms. Even if Harry insisted it was 'the best sport ever invented!' she hated the feeling of being so far off the ground that any wrong move would send her hurtling downwards to her death. Not thanks, she thought. She preferred not to die for a bit of sport.

Once the cashier had rang up the Repair Kit And scarf, her total came to Twenty one galleons, leaving her with about thirty for Uncle Moony's present, and not long to find it.

She rushed around the street before she found Harry, grabbing his arm sharply. "Oi," she whispered, startling him. "Have you gotten Uncle Moony's present yet?"

"No," he shook his head. "Have you?"

"Not yet," Calla said. "Weve only got about fifteen minutes, should we go together to get something?"

"Probably," Harry shrugged. "I've got twenty five galleons and ten sickles left, what about you?"

"Thirty galleons Exactly," Calla said. "Now, any ideas for what to get him?"

Harry shrugged. "Not anything to do with the full moon," he said, and Calla smacked him on the arm.

"Keep your voice down," she hissed. "And that wasn't even a funny joke, so be serious."

"Sorry," he smirked. "He likes books like you do, right? And didn't he say he liked Defense Against the Dark Arts and Care Of Magical Creatures best when he was at school?"

"Think so," Calla said. "How about that, then? Something to do with Defense - you find that, I'm rubbish in that subject anyway - and something to do with Magical Creatures. What about dragons - those seem cool?"

"We could get him a dragon," Harry said breathlessly, as though a great idea had just come to him, and Calla snorted with laughter.

"That's illegal, Harry, but good try," she giggled, as his face fell. "Come on, back to the books."

In the end, they were only just on time to meet Uncle Moony, having bought him a book about dark creatures, a limited edition copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, and some dragon hide gloves that were really Harry's idea rather than Calla's. She had to admit: it was a very good idea for a gift, and she had been a slight bit too caught up in books to consider another gift for her godfather.

"Got everything you needed?" Uncle Moony asked, and hey both nodded enthusiastically. "Good. Up to apparating back?"

Calla tried not to wrinkle her nose - it was still preferable to Flooing in that confined fireplace, but side along apparition was far from her favourite mode of transport by this point. Still, it was Christmas.

December 25th

Christmas Day dawned and Calla rose with the sun, unable to contain her exictement at the prospect of a Dursley-free Christmas. "Wake up, Harry!" she cried, startling her brother out of bed. He leapt up, eyes wide before his brain clicked and he realised what day it was, and his green eyes widened even further.

"It's Christmas!" he declared, stating the obvious as Calla chuckled.

"D'you think Uncle Moony'll be up yet?" Calla asked brightly, leaping out of her own bed. "I can't wait to show him what we got for him - I hope he likes it!"

"Lets go see!" Harry said, tugging Calla out the door and knocking on Uncle Moony's bedroom door. "Uncle Moony, are you up?"

After a moment of silence: "Well, I am now."

"Come on, we want you to open the present from us!" Calla chirped, grinning to herself. She hoped that Hermione had received the present from her and Harry alright, since her parents didn't exactly understand the whole owl thing.

"Alright, alright," Uncle Moony said. "I'll be out in a minute, you two can go on downstairs - but don't open anything yet, Alright?"

The twins hurried downstairs, Harry jumping two at a time and almost dragging a reluctant Calla down with him. They'd helped Uncle Moony to set up the tree a few days ago, and it was looking pretty spectacular, especially with the three stacks of presents underneath the tree. Usually the only presents Harry and Calla ever got were from Uncle Moony, and the occasional coin or box of tissues from the Dursleys, but there was far more waiting for them this year. "Woah," Harry said, eyes gleaming wide in anticipation. "That's a lot of presents."

"We're practically Dudley," Calla whispered, jaw dropping open.

Uncle Moony passed down the stairs a few moments later, and came to kneel beside them in front of the tree. "Right," he said. "Who's up first?"

"Open what we got you!" Calla pleaded, bouncing up and down enthusiastically. Uncle Moony chuckled and reached for the rather expertly wrapped present, if the twins did say so themselves.

He smiled when he unwrapped the two books, saying that he'd been wanting that specific edition of Fantastic Beasts for ages, and he was sure that the book on dark creatures would be really interesting. To Calla's mild irritation, his favourite gift seemed to be the dragon hide gloves that Harry had picked out, and he thanked them both with warm embraces, before picking out the gifts at the top of the twins' piles.

"Here," he said, handing one each to Harry and Calla. "I hope you both like them."

With exchanged excited glances, Calla and Harry opened their packages, Calla grinning when she saw what Uncle Moony had bought for her. A full set of coloured inks, watercolours, and acrylics that claimed to 'move with your brush' lay before her, complete with brushes and quills. "Uncle Moony, this is amazing!" she cried, setting it aside carefully and engulfing her godfather in a massive hug. "You shouldn't have!"

"Oh, it's no problem, Calla," he said softly, returning the hug with a grin. "I thought you'd like it."

"I love it!" Calla cried. "Thank you!"

She pulled away from her godfather and turned to Harry, who was staring transfixed at his gift. "What'd you get, Harry?" Calla asked, peering over his shoulder.

"It's Quidditch Through the Ages!" Harry exclaimed, though it looked like a lot more than just a book to Calla. "With a full behind the scenes of the Quidditch World Cups the 20th Century, and interviews with all of the teams, and look - Gwenog Jones from the Holyhead Harpies did a commentary on it! Ah, and a full set of practice snitches: Oh, Calla, you have to try this out with me later!"

She stared at him. "That's great," Calla said weakly, for it did sound like the perfect gift for Harry. "But there's no way I'm getting up on a broom with you."

Harry huffed, while Uncle Moony stifled his own chuckle, eyes bright. "I'm glad you both like your presents," he chuckled. "Now, you seem to both be rather popular with your classmates, so why don't you open the rest of your presents?"

By the end of it, Calla was more than shocked by the extent of her haul. Harry had gotten her, as predicted, a book, which was about Charms and how it linked to other areas of Magic, and she tried to not consider the dig at her less than stellar magical abilities. He'd also gotten her a sketchbook with a picture of many moving people waving paintbrushes and brandishing pencils like swords, smiling at her through the page. From Hermione, Calla had received a book about Famous Potions Masters, which she set aside for reading later. Ron had sent a package full of sweets, including Calla's favourite chocolate frogs, to the twins to share, and Padma had given them each an assortment of interesting books. There wasn't anything from Daphne, and Calla found herself disheartened for a moment about the lack of gifts from her friend.

"Nothing from Daphne," Harry commented, and Calla glared at him.

"No, there isn't," she said shortly, crossing her arms. Under the tree, something caught her eye. "Hang on, there's still something under there."

For a fleeting moment, Calla found herself hoping it was from Daphne, but from a glance at the name tag, it clearly wasn't. "Your father left this in my posssssion before he died," Harry read, and Calla heard Uncle Moony inhale sharply. "I thought you two ought to have it back. Use it well." He frowned.

"Use it Well?" Calla echoes, confused. She turned to Uncle Moony, whi gestured for them to proceed in unwrapping it.

Carefully, Harry opened the present, revealing a silky fabric that was almost invisible as it floated over him. "What the-"

"An invisibility cloak," Uncle Moony said breathlessly. "That's - that was your father's invisibility cloak." Calla could have sworn she saw a wistful smile tugging on his lips. "We had a lot of memories with that thing. I suppose it's only right that it is passed on to you two." He grinned. "Go on, then. Try it on."

With thrilled glances at one another, the twins pulled the cloak snugly around the both of them, finding that it was just large enough. "We're invisible!" Harry cried, and Calla stared at him.

"That's why it's called an invisibility cloak, dummy," Calla huffed, but she was smiling as she spoke. She decided then, that this had to be the greatest Christmas ever; her and Harry and Uncle Moony, a proper little family. And when Harry dragged her outside with Uncle Moony's old Cleansweep, she didn't even protest at flying around with him a few feet off the ground, and for a moment could forget her fears.


	10. Ch9 - After Christmas

January 10th

By the time that Harry and Calla returned to Hogwarts, they had stuffed themselves full of sweets, turkey, and ice cream. Calla almost didn't want to go back to school - but that was more to do with having to face Daphne Greengrass than anything. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't marginally disappointed by the lack of presents from Daphne, or by the lack of thanks from her that was just customary in these circumstances.

The first time that Calla got to see Daphne after the holidays was at dinner after they all got back, after she and Padma had split from the Gryffindors. "Evening, Daphne," Padma chirped, though Calla noticed the wary look in her eyes as the Greengrass girl turned her haughty gaze towards them. Calla had been expecting her to perhaps play nice, to apologise or explain herself or something - at least make herself look apologetic. But all she did was glare. The two girls exchanged glances at their pale friend. "Have a nice holiday?"

Daphne sniffed at her, sneering before she turned away towards Lisa Turpin, and began talking about the Charms homework they'd been given over the holidays.

Calla pouted in frustration. "I don't think she wants to talk to us," Calla huffed, crossing her arms and laying her head down on the table. "I should have known."

"Maybe you should try privately?" Padma suggested. "She might not want to talk about it in front of everyone, if there's something bothering her."

"You know, I don't appreciate when people talk about me behind my back," Daphne sneered at them, eyes cold. "It's rude."

"Daphne, we were just worried about you," Padma said quietly, Brown eyes wide.

"I'm sure you were," Daphne huffed, looking down her nose at Padma. "But I'm afraid I don't like it when half bloods consort with me."

Padma's face contorted with anger and she stood up abruptly - indeed, Calla felt that familiar spark of anger too. "What did you just say?" she hissed, face stonier than Calla had ever seen. "You know, we thought you were our friend, Greengrass. I suppose we were wrong."

With that, Padma stormed out, drawing the attention of almost everyone in the Great Hall. Eyes wide, Calla looked at Daphne and could have sworn that there was a flicker of remorse within them. Some part of her wanted to reach out to Daphne and make sure that she was okay - there had to be something wrong for her to act like that - but she pushed it away. Daphne had just insulted Padma, and hurt her quite badly. Friends didn't do that to each other.

Calla looked up to look at Dumbledore, who was eyeing her carefully, as though debating what to do next. "You know what, Daphne?" she hissed. "If something's wrong, you could tell us. But don't insult Padma like that."

Mustering the worst - albeit rather feeble - glare she could, Calla turned around and followed Padma out of the Great Hall, rushing to comfort her friend.

She found Padma sitting by the edge of the Entrance Hall, sobbing quietly. "Padma?" she asked in a soft voice, taking a step closer. "Look, don't listen to Daphne, she's just being mean."

"It's not that," Padma sobbed. "It's just... I thought I'd found friends here. When Parvati and I were sorted into different houses, I thought my world was about to end. Then I made friends with you guys and it was all okay, but then Daphne doesn't seem to like us anymore and let's be honest, I don't talk to Hermione or the boys as much as I talk to you two, do I? And I - I don't want to lose you."

"You're not going to lose me," Calla said firmly. "I know how you feel, Padma. Harry and I only ever had each other, and now we're separated, I have to admit it is hard. But it's okay, because I've got you and I've still got him, and Hermione and Ron, and we all like you. I'm sure Parvati misses you, too. You just need to reach out to her."

"I know," Padma said, sniffing as she dried her tears with the sleeve of her robes. "It's just hard. I'm scared... I'm scared that if I do reach out to her, that she might not want me to."

"She will," Calla said. "Trust me, Padma. And if she doesn't, I'll set Hermione on her."

Padma snorted. "Yes, I'm sure Hermione'll set her right, won't she?"

"See?" Calla said, grinning. "You're smiling again already."

"Suppose I am," Padma giggled. "D'you reckon we could go back inside now?"

"If you want to," Calla said, offering out her hand and hauling Padma up to her feet. "Don't worry: it'll all work out in the end."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

February 10th

With the beginning of February came the Gryffindor v Hufflepuff match, more anticipated throughout the school than Calla had imagined it to be. Since Hufflepuff's team was, to put it plainly, quite awful, and Harry was one of the best Seekers Gryffindor has ever had, they were almost a shoe in for the Quidditch Cup. If they beat Hufflepuff - which they would - they'd only have to go through Ravenclaw, and much as Calla hated to admit it, that was almost definite.

On the Saturday morning when the Quidditch match dawned, Daphne still hadn't spoken properly to either Calla or Padma, or indeed any of their small friend group. Instead she'd been consorting more with her pureblood peers in Slytherin, and while Calla didn't particularly dislike any of them except Parkinson and Malfoy, she missed her friend who got excited over Potions and wore eccentric clothes perfectly. Even in the dormitory at night, she never so much as looked at Calla or Padma, and the former found herself wondering what on earth she'd done wrong.

"Morning," she greeted Harry glumly, plopping into a seat beside him at the Gryffindor table.

"What's up with you?" Ron asked, wrinkling his nose in confusion.

"Padma's off studying with Izzy and Sue," Calla huffed. "Daphne's still not talking to me, and everyone else is sleeping. Quite frankly, you're my last resort."

"Gee, thanks, Cal," Harry laughed, and elbowed her softly in the ribs.

"Have you heard, Calla?" Ron asked in an unnecessary conspiratal tone. "Snape's the referee."

"I know," Calla shrugged, analysing their reactions. Of course, they all looked rather surprised. "You don't still think he's trying to do Harry in, so you?"

"I think it's entirely possible," Hermione said, glaring at Calla. "What other reason could he have for refereeing?"

"Maybe Madame Hooch is ill and he wants to do his bit for the school?" Calla suggested. She was really getting tired of her Gryffindor friends jumping to conclusions without any real substantial evidence. She knew their hearts were in the right place, but their heads certainly weren't. "We don't have any evidence that he'll actually hurt Harry."

"Even if he doesn't," Ron said, "he's still going to be biased towards Slytherin, he won't let Gryffindor get away with anything!"

"If Gryffindor keeps to the rules, that shouldn't be a problem," Calla replied coolly. She saw Zacharias Smith come in with Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones, both looking nervous after Hufflepuff's narrow defeat to Ravenclaw in December. "Good luck if I don't see you beforehand, Harry."

She stood up and moved along, greeting the three newly arrived Hufflepuffs. "Hi, Calla," Zacharias said, smiling at her. "Ready to see your brother humiliated by the Hufflepuff Seeker?"

"Sure, let's go with that," Calla laughed. "Are you excited for the game?"

Zach made a face. "Would be better if Snape wasn't refereeing. He'll ruin the whole game with his bloody anti-Gryffindor... silliness."

"You do realise he'll probably let Hufflepuff win, right?" Calla asked, confused by Zach's reasoning.

"Yeah, but it won't be fair," Hannah Abbot said, rolling her eyes. "So there wouldn't be much point."

"Not that we'll even need Snape's prejudice," Susan said, grinning. "We could even take Ravenclaw on by now."

"I'm sure you could, Susan," Calla giggled. "Look, Anthony and Terry have just sat down, I'm going to go see them. Have fun at the match!"

Calla skipped back to her own table, sitting down between Anthony and a second year girl, helping herself to toast. "Are you two going to watch the match?" she asked, biting into a sliced of heavily buttered toast.

Anthony nodded, mouth full. "Snape's refereeing," Terry said. "Should be fun to watch. Personally, I'm rooting for Hufflepuff, it'll give us a leg up in the Quidditch Cup this year."

"True," Calla admitted. "But I still have to root for Harry, I suppose."

"So we can see," Anthony said, nodding at her scarlet headband and Gryffindor scarf.

"I'm being supportive," Calla I formed him. "But when they go up against us, I'll be entirely blue from head to toe, guaranteed."

"Glad to hear it," Terry laughed.

When they finally finished eating and traipsed down to the stands, Ron and Hermione were waiting already, alongside Neville Longbottom. "Still think Snape's on an anti-Gryffindor campaign with this?" Calla asked as cheerily as if she was asking their opinion on the weather.

"He's probably going to sabotage the entire match," Ron said, sounding very doom and gloom.

"He looks like he'd rather have wrestled that troll than be on that broom," Terry observed, and Calla nodded.

"Exactly. Do you think he's going to try and murder my brother?"

"If he wants to get sent to Azkaban, then sure," Anthony shrugged, smirking. Calla had learnt a bit about the Wizarding prison, Azkaban, from Padma and Isobel, and from what she'd heard it was one of the worst places in the world. Though Snape was far from her favourite teacher, she shuddered to think of anyone in that place, full of darkness and depression and dementors as Isobel had called them.

"Well, it's the only explanation for what happened," Hermione told him shortly, and the boys looked at Calla expectantly.

"She set Snape's robes on fire," Calla said, and they both gaped.

"You're mental," Terry informed Hermione in a matter of fact way. "Are all Gryffindors like you?"

"Would that necessarily be a bad thing?" Ron asked, scowling.

"No," Terry said. "I mean, I'm sure some could do with being a bit smarter than they already are, but you're all a bit headstrong aren't you? I wouldn't risk getting in trouble for setting a teacher's robes on fire that's for sure, unless it was a literal matter of life and death."

"It very well could have been," Hermione told him. "He was jinxing Harry's broom."

"We don't know that for sure," Calla protested, but Hermione and Ron both glared at her and she gave in. There was no use trying to reason with them right now, especially when they were so tense about the match.

Five minutes in, the Gryffindors didn't seem to understand the reason why Snape was refereeing and the best way to stop him from taking points from them: sticking to the rules. Out of pure irritation, the Weasley twins had sent more than two bludgers at Snape, and Hufflepuff had been awarded multiple penalties for their mistakes. Calla was really hoping that Harry caught the Snitch soon, before the Gryffindor team could be punished any further. "This is awful," Ron groaned, staring the obvious.

"Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time?" came Draco Malfoy's drawling voice, and all seven of them groaned. Calla twisted in her seat to see the blond haired arse, accompanied not only by Crabbe and Goyle, but also Daphne and Pansy Parkinson.

Daphne shot Calla an almost apologetic look that was soon covered up with a sneer, and Calla frowned. None of this made any sense. "What about you, Potter Two? I reckon your brother might break his neck this time."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Ron hissed, as Calla shrank back and glared at the blond.

"I wonder how they do get people on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. I reckon they do it out of pity. First there's Potter who's got no parents-" Calla gritted her teeth, resisting the unexpected urge to smack Malfoy across the head. "Then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money." Ron growled at Malfoy, about to lunge. "Hey, maybe they should put Longbottom on the team - he's got no brains."

To Calla's horror and surprise, both Ron and Neville lunged for Malfoy, tackling him to the ground. "Ron!" Calla cried, trying to drag the ginger boy off of Malfoy. "Neville! Oh, come on! Get off of him!"

Truthfully, she would have loved to take out a nice bit anger on Malfoy herself, but there was a time and a place, and now was not either of those. Of course, Malfoy didn't help matters by fighting back, getting Crabbe and Goyle involved too.

"What, Potter?" Parkinson sneered. "Just going to stand by? I always thought you were a wimp. Too bad your parents weren't around to teach you any better."

"Leave Calla out of this, Parkinson," Hermione said, leaping to Calla's defense. "She's not a wimp, and at least she's a nice person, unlike you."

Parkinson might have retorted were it not for Malfoy reaching out and grabbing her by the hem of her robes and she went toppling to the ground seconds before Terry swung at her. "Terry!" Hermione cried, clearly still greatly offended by the violence that surrounded her. "Look, all of you, just stop it! What if something happens to Harry and we don't see it?"

That tore Calla's attention away from the fight and towards her brother, just in time for her to see him diving through the air. She couldn't quite see, but she was almost certain he had spotte the Snitch.

Sure enough, only a few moments later, Lee Jordan announced his capture, and Gryffindor's subsequent win, and the stands were in uproar. By this time, the boys and Parkinson had ceased their fighting due to intervention that came mostly from Anthony, though he later swore that Daphne had helped. The Slytherins and Greengrass had cleared off while the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws rushed to congratulate Harry on his win, Calla trying to forget the look on Daphne's face when Parkinson had insulted her.

xxxx

February 28th

Calla had yet another detention with Snape. Though he was coming around to her finally, she'd accidentally spilled a tub of bezoars on the floor, which in Snape's mind clearly warranted three hours of scrubbing cauldrons.

She sighed deeply when her trek to the dungeons ended, and she knocked on Snape's door. "Professor?" she called out, curious when there was no reply. "Professor Snape? It's Calla Potter. I believe I have a detention?"

Chancing her luck, Calla edged the door open just in time to see a swirl of black robes. "Don't come in," Professor Snape hissed, face pale and drained of colour. "Your detention is cancelled."

Before Calla could respond to that, the door was slammed shut in her face and she heard the clicking of a lock. Looked like she'd just trekked all the way down there for nothing, then. Groaning, Calla began her ascent back up to Ravenclaw Tower, legs still sore from her journey down.

After a few minutes of tedious journeying, Calla was still in a bad mood, and almost cursed at the Weasley twins when they crashed into her.

"Ah!" cried Fred. "Calla Potter, just the girl we were looking for!"

"You were?" she asked, frowning. Ron was Harry's best friend, but she'd barely spoken to the twins.

"Of course! Come, walk with us."

"Ravenclaw Tower's the opposite direction, so I really-"

"Nonsense," George said. "Ravenclaw Tower's any direction if you try hard enough. Walk."

She did as she was told, mildly frustrated with the twins, and confused as to why they were talking to her. "Why do you want to talk to me?" she huffed, glancing at her fingernails. They were dirty from Potions - she had to clean them once she got back. Though at this rate, that would be about a week away.

"Well, you see," Fred began.

"We overheard Ickle Ronniekins talking to your brother and Granger,"

"About some Invisibility Cloak that he got for Christmas,"

"Said it used to be your dad's,"

"But that wasn't the important part,"

"Oh no, the most important part was the mention of your 'Uncle Moony',"

"Who's your godfather, right?"

"Anyways, it got us thinking,"

"Because we have this map,"

"Ad there's four names on it,"

"And one of them was Moony,"

"And well, we're not as stupid as we look, so we put two and together,"

"So here."

Fred thrust a blank piece of parchment under Calla's nose, and she frowned at it. Was this some kind of lame prank, because it didn't make much sense at all. "Right," Calla said slowly. "I appreciate the offer, you two, but I don't really get it."

"So your godfather isn't referred to as Moony?" George asked, confused.

"No, he is," Calla said. "I just don't see what a blank piece of parchment has to do with anything."

"Say something to it," Fred said, grinning. "And Tao it with your wand."

She tried the only thing she could think of, tapping the parchment with her wand. "Alohamora?"

Ink spread across the paper. "Property of Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs." She gasped, not quite expecting that to happen. "Mr Wormtail would like to ask who is trying to open this? Mr Moony would like to ask why one is trying to open this, and if it's Filch to buffer off." Calla snorted. This was far from being like her godfather, but then again... "Mr Padfoot would like to enquiry as to why anyone would think this map could be opened by Alohamora. Mr Prongs would like to add that if it is Filch reading this, he shares Mr Moony's sentiments, and would like to know when Mrs Norris is doing the rounds tonight."

"This is Calla Potter," Calla said, after a confused glance at the twins. To her surprise, the ink didn't write immediately. Instead, it was left blank until only one comment appeared. "Mr Prongs would like to invite Calla Potter to swear, as solemnly as possible, that she is up to no good."

"Say it," Fred Weasley hissed, grinning like a maniac. Clearly, this was all very exciting for him. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

She looked back at the parchment in confusion. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The previous ink disappeared, to be replaced with swirling maroon shapes and diagrams and names which moved about on the parchment. "The Marauder's Map," George said with a proud smirk. "Discovered it about a year and a half ago. Figure it could be of use to you.@

"Me?" Calla asked. "Why?"

"Family heirloom, perhaps?" Fred suggested. "Consider it a late Christmas present from us. We'd love if you used it for a nice prank on some Slytherins - preferably Malfoy - but it's up to you. Just let this Moony fellow know that he's an absolute legend, and all those others need to meet up with us, Alright?"

"Un..." Calla began, still confused. There were names shifting about on the map, but she only paid attention to Harry, who she found in the Gryffindor common room with Hermione and Ron. "Thanks?"

"Any time," Fred said with a wink. "And remember, once you're done, tap it once and say 'Mischief Managed'. Got it?"

"Got it," Calla said, still uncertain as the Weasley boys disappeared round a corner. Great, she thought. Now she had to find her way back to the tower herself. Still, at least she had a weird map to help her, right?


	11. Ch10 - Dragons and Drama

March 20th

It had taken Calla some time, but she was finally working out how to use the map. She'd written to Uncle Moony the night that the twins had given it to her, and his response had been elated, telling her how they did it and their favourite passages to use, and how Prongs was (as Calla had suspected) James Potter himself. She hadn't shared the map with Harry yet, some selfish part of her wanting to keep it to herself, the one true connection she had to their dad outside of her godfather.

On a crisp Saturday morning, Calla lay across her bed in the Ravenclaw dormitory alone, pouring over the map. Padma had gone with Isobel and Sue to work out exactly where the Giant Squid in the Black Lake lived, while Lisa and Mandy were studying with the boys, and Daphne was, from the looks of the map, in the library with Malfoy and Parkinson. She'd had been invited to join Padma investigating the squid, but had decided against it - large bodies of water were far from her favourite thing in the world. She remembered one time when she and Harry were younger, the Dursleys had been forced to take them out on a picnic to the park, and Dudley had pushed her in the lake. Calla had never been taught how to swim, and had flailed around for ages while Harry shrieked, until the Dursleys had to rescue her for fear of being judged for the neglect and abuse which they had continued for the last ten years. She'd never told anybody about this of course, other than Uncle Moony, but she'd had to decline Padma's invitation.

Besides, Harry, Hermione, and Ron were in the library right now, and she was considering going to join them when there was a sharp tap at her window. Moony had arrived, with another letter from Calla's godfather clasped in her beak.

"Hello, girl," she cooed, letting the owl inside. "Have you got something for me?" Moony gave a hoot of pride as Calla took the letter, trading it for a handful of owl treats.

 _Dear Calla_ , it read

 _I suppose I should say I hope you're not using the map for any mischief, but quite frankly, that was its purpose all along. As you should know, you only have around ten weeks until your end of her exams begin. While I'm sure I don't have to remind you to study for these, it certainly wouldn't hurt to tell that brother of yours, and get your friend Hermione to remind him, too: she sounds sensible._

 _Harry wrote me recently, asking about a Mr Nicholas Flamel. I have to say, I don't know why you both are interested in alchemy all of a sudden, but if you can't find it in any books then I suppose I ought to tell you myself. Nicholas Flamel was a renowned alchemist, both in our world and the Muggle world, though of course muggles do not know the full extent of his power. He is the sole creator of the Philosopher's Stone, which you may recognise from some old fairytales and folklore; indeed, his work and the work of other alchemists is viewed as being the foundation of modern day Chemistry. The Philosopher's Stone, in short, can not only create gold (which is what most Muggle alchemists sought to achieve) but may also produce the Elixir of Life, granting immortality to the drinker for as long as they continue to take the potion._

 _I have written all of this to Harry, too, but I think you ought to have the information too, just in case. I know what Harry's like, he may forget some of his facts. If you want to learn more, I'm sure Madam Pince will have plenty books to recommend to you, and I hope whatever project this contributes to goes well. Keep revising!_

 _All my love,_

 _Uncle Moony_

Calla smiled to herself. Elixir of Life? Gold? If this Philosopher's Stone really was what Uncle Moony said it was, it could be extremely powerful... and extremely dangerous. Clearly, someone was after it, and for good reason too, if it was so powerful. And Dumbledore must suspect it, otherwise he wouldn't have gone to so much effort to keep it safe. After all, hadn't Hagrid said that Hogwarts was one of the safest places in the world?

Dumbledore obviously suspected someone, but he didn't suspect Snape. If he had, then why would he have it somewhere that Snape, or any teacher really, could access? Calla was confused. She had to tell her brother about this recent revelation, and glanced at the map, seeing that he was now outside, looking like he was on his way to Hagrid's hut with Ron and Hermione.

"Mischief Managed," Calla whispered, stuffing the map into her bag alongside her letter and bounding out of the dormitory, rushing along the corridors and out the door.

She leapt over rocks and slippery patches of moss, rushing to stop at Hagrid's hut. She knocked on the door three times, and stood back, biting her lip. No sooner had Hagrid opened the door than she'd flung herself inside. "I know about the Philosopher's Stone!" she said cheerfully, and the three Gryffindors stared at her. "And I know that there's no way Snape's trying to steal it!"

"What?" Ron asked, confused. "Harry, I thought you hadn't gotten a letter back yet?"

"Nope, but I did," Calla said cheerfully. "I know what it is, and Harry will get a letter soon enough too, but the point is, I know it's safe."

"See?" Hagrid said. "I told yeh so. Snape was never trying to steal the stone."

"But Calla, how can you know that?" Hermione asked. "All the evidence points to Snape."

"There is no evidence!" Calla cried. "First of all, we have no proof that Snape was actually jinxing Harry's broom. Yes, Snape was limping on Halloween - did it occur to you that maybe the troll had seen him at some point, or maybe they'd been running to find it and he'd gotten hurt? Even if he was with Fluffy, maybe he was protecting it, too, just in case something did happen. And Dumbledore trusts Snape, and I trust Dumbledore's judgment. He wouldn't have moved the stone here if there was someone in the castle trying to steal it, would he?"

"Maybe he doesn't know?" Ron suggested.

"Dumbledore knows everything that happens in this castle," Calla said, sitting down between Harry and Hermione. "Case closed."

The Gryffindors all stared at her for a moment before Harry spoke up. "Well, I trust Calla's brain. If you don't think Snape's trying to steal it, neither do I."

"Thank you, Harry," Calla said, grinning. "Of course, there is the chance someone else is trying to find it, but I still think that's highly unlikely. We should stay out of it."

Reluctantly, Harry nodded, and Ron and Hermione exchanged meaningful glances. "But, Calla, I still think we should be on alert to try and stop anything happening to it."

"Why should we?" Calla argued, quite frankly bored of Hermione's perplexing sense of duty. "We're eleven, it isn't our job to protect the stone. I'm sure whatever measures Dunebleodre's put in place will be sufficient."

"Exactly," Hagrid said in a gruff voice. "Now, are you all going to listen to Calla and forget about this nonsense?"

"Fine," Ron huffed, though his disgruntled expression told Calla that he definitely didn't see this as 'fine', but rather a submission to whatever mysterious evil plot Snape had concocted.

"Could we open a window in here, Hagrid?" Calla asked, shrugging off her jacket. "I'm boiling."

"Fraid not, Calla," Hagrid said, and she noticed the nervous way in which he looked over at the fireplace.

"Hagrid, is that a dragon egg?" Ron asked, eyes blown wide in excitement.

"Ah, well-" Hagrid scratched his beard nervously.

"How did you get it? It must have cost a bloody fortune!"

"Won it," Hagrid said proudly. "Off an Irish fella down the pub."

"But what are you going to do with it?" Harry asked, staring at him. "Are you even allowed a dragon."

"Ah well," Hagrid looked down. "I'll care for it. Been doing some reading, you see."

Clearly, Hermione and Calla had been thinking along the same lines. "Hagrid, you live in a wooden house," Hermione said, sounding as though she thought it was obvious. Which, to be fair, it was.

"Dragons breathe fire," Calla added, but Hagrid didn't seem to care, humming merrily as he stoked the fire.

xxxxxxxx

On the trek up to the castle, Harry finally deigned to tell Calla what she thought was a rather important piece of information. Apparently he and Ron had been near the staff room when they'd heard voices and hidden. Calla really did hate it, but the 'evidence' they gave did suggest at first that Snape was involved with the stone.

According to Harry, he'd been threatening Quirrel, asking about how long Quirrel would keep the stone protected and how Snape was going to make him give in eventually, which quite frankly terrified Calla.

"If Quirrel's guarding if, the stone will be gone by next week," Ron had said, and Calla had glared at him. Something about it all simply wasn't adding up, but Ron and Hermione at least were still adamant about Snape's part, and Harry may be swayed, even if Calla hated the prospect.

Yet something nagged at the back of her mind, not quite resurfacing, but near enough to it that Calla was maddened, trying to figure it out.

xxxxxxxx

March 31st

The quartet had visited Hagrid numerous times in the following days, often accompanied by Padma, trying to talk him out of the dragon hatching, but to no avail. He was adamant on raising this dragon - a Norwegian Ridgeback, he'd told Calla it was called - even though it was a clear health and safety violation, and he could get in masses of trouble not only from Dumbledore, but the Ministry of Magic itself.

On a Thursday evening, while sitting in the Great Hall, a small owl dove down in front of Calla. She quickly untied the piece of parchment hanging from its leg. "It's hatching," was all it said. Calla showed it to Padma and they made hasty excuses, rushing down towards Hagrid's hut, Harry, Ron and Hermione following closely behind.

Hagrid ushered them all inside hurriedly, casting a furtive glance outside to make sure they hadn't been followed before he slammed the door closed. "Quickly now," he said. "It's ready to come out."

The six of them huddled around the fire, Calla closest to the egg and stroking it gently. A little crack spread along it and she gasped. "Come on now," she cooed. "Just a little bit more and you'll be ready to join the world."

"Careful, Cal," Harry said. "If it comes out I don't want it to bite you."

"You won't bite me, will you?" Calla cooed to the egg, just as a round head popped out. Wide yellow eyes stared at her and she gasped in excitement. "Oh, it's beautiful. Hagrid, come see!"

The others moved out the way to let Hagrid stroke the little dragon's head. "Aw, it's lovely," he sobbed, as the dragon came out in its full form, bounding over to him. "Aw bless him, he knows his mummy."

The dragon snorted and left out an adorable little puff of smoke, as Calla cooed at it in excitement. Hermione, on the other hand, yelped with fright.

"Hagrid, that thing could set your house on fire," Padma said, but neither Hagrid or Calla particularly cared. The dragon was dangerous yes, but right now it was adorable, and clearly Hagrid agreed.

"There's no point," Hermione said briskly. "Clearly, they're both too far gone."

Just then, Calla looked up, in time to see a pale face looking through the curtains. "Oi!" Ron shouted, clearly seeing him too. "Was that-"

"Malfoy," Harry agreed grimly, and Hagrid's face paled.

"Lucius Malfoy's son?" he asked worriedly. "Do you think he saw anything?"

Padma nodded. "I think he saw everything."

xxx

April 7th

"We have to do something about it," Ron said as they traipsed back up to the castle after yet another visit to the dragon, whom Hagrid had recently christened Norbert. "Hagrid can't keep him."

"Someone will find out eventually," Hermione agreed, and Padma nodded.

"But Hagrid will be worried about little Norbert," Calla protested. "He can't just be left to fend for himself - he might get hurt."

"Cal, I appreciate that you think Norbert's cute, but he's dangerous, and Hagrid could get in serious trouble for having him if anybody else finds out. And Malfoy already does."

"To hell with Malfoy," Ron muttered. "Look, my brother Charlie works with dragons. He could be sent there."

"But that's in Romania!" Calla said. "That's too far away."

"Would you rather Hagrid lost his job and got his house blown to pieces?" Ron shouted, and Padma hissed at him to keep his voice down.

"No!" Calla argued hotly. "But there have to be closer options!"

"Well, there aren't," Ron said. "I'll write to Charlie."

Calla scowled, scuffing her shoes off of the mossy ground. "Fine."

xxx

April 10th

It had, inevitably, gone wrong. Ron had allowed himself to be bitten by Norbert, and while Madam Pomfrey had thankfully not questioned his injury, Draco Malfoy had come into the hospital wing and borrowed one of Ron's books. Coincidentally, it was the book in which Ron had stuffed the letter from his brother, detailing exactly when and how Norbert was to be collected.

They'd decided that there wasn't time to go write back to Charlie Weasley to tell him not to come, and at a quarter to midnight, Calla and Padma woke one another up, getting ready to go out.

"I told Harry we'd meet him and Hermione outside the common room," Calla whispered. "They'll be here any second now."

"Okay," Padma replied groggily, yawning as Calla stuffed the Marauder's Map in her pocket, just in case she needed it.

"You two aren't really going out, are you?"

Calla almost jumped out of her skin at the sound of Daphne's voice. "Daphne?" Padma hissed. "What the hell are you doing up?"

"Stopping you two from making a mistake," she said crossly. "Look, I know what Malfoy's up to, hes going to try and get you into trouble. Please, I don't want you two getting into trouble. Don't go, please."

"Why do you care?" Padma asked, glaring at Daphne. "You're not our friend anymore."

For a second, hurt flickered across Daphne's delicate features, before her stony expression returned. "Fine, then," she huffed. "Get in trouble, see if I care."

With a glance of confirmation, the two Ravenclaw girls left the dormitory, peering out into the corridor outside the common room. "Cal," came Harry's voice in whisper. "Quickly."

The two bustled over to him, and after they had managed to pry Norbert away from Hagrid, rushed up to the astronomy tower for midnight. While Padma, Hermione and Harry said their farewells to the little dragon, Calla but back her own tears and kissed Norbert softly on the forehead, before turning away into seclusion so she could check her map. Most people were in their dorms, however her eyes soon fell on Professor Quirrel's name around the third floor corridor. She frowned, curiosity making her wonder what on Earth he was doing there, and placing some doubts in her mind about his intentions, before she noticed another three names.

Draco Malfoy, Neville Longbottom, and Minerva McGonagall were all clustered in a corridor, and moving towards the Astronomy Tower. Calla held back a curse.

"We've got to move quickly," she told the others. "Come on, Harry, Hermione, Padma."

Charlie's friends waved them off with a smile and took Norbert away, as the four students hurried back down the stairs, Calla holding onto the map for dear life. It was only when they reached the bottom of the stairs that fear sunk in. "Harry," she hissed. "The cloak."

In all the hurry, they'd forgotten it at the top of the tower, but footsteps were fast approaching. "Mischief Managed," Calla hissed weakly, stuffing the map in her pocket.

"I told you, Mr Malfoy, if you are making this up!" came Professor McGonagall's voice, just as she rounded the corner and stared at them.

Calla knew they weren't getting out of this one, and of course Harry had left the cloak behind. Of course he'd been careless and gotten them all into trouble.

xxxxx

"I wonder," Professor McGonagall said sternly, tapping her foot on the ground. She was angrier than Calla had ever seen her, and the undiluted fury on her face made Calla almost sob. Unless she could think fast, they were going to be in a boatload of trouble. The problem was, she had no idea how much Malfoy had told McGonagall. "I wonder how any student would think themselves so above the rules as to sneak out of bed after hours - and at midnight, no less! Pray tell, why exactly were your intentions."

Just then, Professor Flitwick entered the room, casting a brief smile at McGonagall before looking at his students, seeming more disappointed than angry.

"Well, Miss Potter?" McGonagall asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You see, Professor," Calla said, and it didn't take much effort to put on a sad face. "Harry and I, well, we were rather stressed, What with exams and everything that has been going on. This whole world is rather new to us, you see, and it's all just a bit overwhelming, especially when we found out the truth of what happened to our parents, and I suppose I was just feeling very over-emotional tonight. Padma and Hermione came with us, they didn't want us wandering about on my own and figured that in the - quite embarrassingly - emotional state I was in, I might not be able to answer the riddle to get back into the common room, and Hermione was just looking out for Harry." She looked down, cheeks flaming. It wasn't quite a lie, of course. More than once, she had been for a walk with Harry under the Invisibikity Cloak, but this time someone had found her. "I know it was probably silly of me, and I'm sorry. But really, don't blame Harry or Padma or Hermione, or Neville, I'm sure he was only looking out for Harry when he left. It's all my fault, really."

"That's such a lie," Malfoy spat. "You were smuggling a dragon!"

Clearly catching onto Calla's plan, Harry faked a laugh. "Don't you know Calla's scared of dragons?" he asked. "Honestly, Malfoy, at least check your facts."

"That's enough," Professor McGonagall said quietly. "Miss Potter, I entirely understand your feeling, but even so, sneaking out of your dorms at night is against the rules."

"I know, Professor," Calla said abashedly. "I'm sorry, it was silly of me, and I wasn't thinking. I should never have snuck out, and I'm so sorry that I dragged poor Neville into this, that was never meant to happen." That was all true. It was, in hindsight, not a great idea to sneak out - or to have left the Invisibility Cloak - and she did feel awful that Neville had gotten dragged into this mess.

"Be That as it may, you understand you must all be punished?" Professor McGonagall asked, peering over her glasses. "For my students and Mr Malfoy, I believe fifty points and a detention should suffice."

"What?" Harry asked, scandalised.

"Each," McGonagall said, glaring at him. "Filius?"

"Well," Professor Flitwick squeaked. "I think there are certain circumstances we ought to take into consideration. Yes, yes." He stared at Padma and Calla for a moment in contemplation. "Yes, I think twenty points from Ravenclaw and a detention each. Because of the circumstances, of course, it is unfair to punish Miss Potter for her emotions, especially after what she's been through, and Miss Patil was clearly being a supportive friends, something we can all admire."

"Thank you, Professor," Calla mumbled, while Harry stared at her slack jawed.

"You are all dismissed," McGonagall said, looking sternly at Flitwick. "See that you are not caught gain."

"How did you get away with that?" Harry huffed once they were out of earshot of the teachers. "You got off Scot-free just about! It's so unfair!"

"You got off Scot-free for flying," Calla pointed out. Actually, worse than Scot-free: he'd been rewarded, and quite frankly he hadn't deserved it. He hadn't deserved for her to just cover for him - she had a feeling his punishment would have been far worse if she hadn't made up that story. But did she get a thank you? No. "And it's different anyway. You get away with things because you're lucky and you're the boy-who-lived. I get away with things because I'm smart."

And with that, she turned away towards Ravenclaw Tower with Padma.

 **Sorry if this chapter kind of dragged on a bit. I don't really want to essentially repeat the plot of the books, because I feel that wouldn't be very entertaining, and as such I am trying to divert from the actual events where possible, while also not going into minute details that everyone already knows. We're readily coming to the end of the Philosopher's Stone, and hopefully we'll get to Chamber of Secrets about the end of January. Updates will be less frequent for the next month or so, as I have my mock exams in the new year and I will be focusing most of my energies on revising for those. I'm also not sure if I'll be able to update next Sunday due to it being Christmastime, but I will try.**

 **If I don't update before, have a very merry Christmas to anyone who celebrates it, a Happy Hanukkah to anyone who celebrates that, and Happy Holidays to everybody else! :)**


	12. Ch11 - Into the Woods

April 19th

By morning, the news of the missing house points had spread throughout the school, with various accounts rushing about. One that made Calla laugh particularly was that she and her brother had been off fighting Death Eaters on the backs of dragons, dragging Neville, Padma, Hermione and Malfoy along for the ride. To her relief, most of the Ravenclaws hadn't taken it to badly, with only twenty points lost for their house, and those who were irritated by it seemed to lighten up after hearing Calla's sob story.

Some part of her had expected her house - said to be the most rule abiding - to be incredibly annoyed with her and Padma's flouting of the rule, before she realised what she and quite frankly most people had forgotten: keeping to the rules wasn't actually one of Ravenclaw's traits. Intelligent? Sure. Creative? Check. Unique? Of course. But goody two shoes? Not really.

As a matter of fact, it seemed to be the Gryffindors who were most annoyed by the loss of points. The combined one hundred and fifty points loss had meant that Gryffindor were now bottom of the running for the house cup, and Harry, Hermione and Neville were effectively exiled, only Ron speaking to any of them. Malfoy, on the other hand, was having a jolly time of it, telling all the frustrated Slytherins about how it was all Harry's fault, and earning back all his house points form Snape in Potions. Typical, Calla thought. None of them would have been in this predicament if he hadn't opened his fat mouth.

To Calla's surprise, Daphne sat beside her at dinner, smiling as though nothing had happened. "Morning, Potter, Patil," she chirped. "I see you didn't listen to me?" She grabbed an apple before continuing. "Still, word has it Calla wormed her way out of the mess alright. Nice one:"

"Thanks," Calla said faintly, staring at her.

"Any time. Heard your brother's been excommunicated by Gryffindor house - reckon you should talk to him. From what I've heard, he could use some sisterly support right now."

"We wouldn't have been in any mess if he hadn't stupidly left the invisibikity cloak behind," Calla muttered, just loud enough for Daphne to hear.

"What Invisibility Cloak?" she asked, eyes bright and excited.

"Harry's Invisibikity Cloak, Obviously," Padma said, rolling her eyes. "And why are you talking to us anyway, Greengrass? Thought you'd broken all ties at Christmas."

Daphne looked down bashfullu. "Yeah, well... It's a bit complicated."

"You suddenly turned on us with absolutely no reason," Padma said angrily. "If it's complicated, you could have said at the time, rather than acting all weird when it suits you to."

"Look," Daphne said, biting her lip. "I didn't want to upset either of ou, but-"

"Forget It," Padma said. "Calla, how about we go to the library to study for Charms?"

"Sure," Calla said, trying to work out the swirl of emotions in Daphne's eyes. She looked genuinely concerned, but then again maybe that was an act. Truth was, Calla wanted to give Daphne the benefit of the doubt - she was the whole reason she'd wanted to be in Ravenclaw, after all - but she didn't know if she could or not. "See you later, Greengrass."

March 13th

A few weeks later, Calla, Harry, Padma, Malfoy, Hermione, and Neville were all escorted down to their detention at eleven o'clock, each just as miserably as each other, though Malfoy complained the most.

"Pity they let the old punishments die out," Filch said bitterly. "Hang you by the ankles, that'd do you all some good, oh yes... if I had my way."

Calla sincerely hoped that Filch would never get his way. When they finally came to a stop, it was outside Hagrid's hut, and Calla breathed a sigh of relief when Filch told them that they would be serving detention with their giant friend.

"Come on," Hagrid said. "Yeh'll be serving your detention in the forest with me."

"B-but students aren't allowed in the forest!" Malfoy protested, lip quivering. "My father won't be happy!"

"Yer father'll tell you that's how things are done at Hogwarts, Malfoy," Hagrid said firmly. "You did summat wrong, so yeh'll be punished for it, just like anybody else. Now, come on."

"But there are werewolves!" Malfoy said, and Calla rolled her eyes. It wasn't even a full moon, and werewolves had control of themselves most of the time. Even if Malfoy's claims were true - which they probably weren't - he was stupid to be honestly scared of the werewolves.

"Don't be silly," Hagrid said gruffly. "And nothin'll hurt you so long as I'm with yeh, alright?"

Thy all nodded, even a reluctant Malfoy, and Hagrid smiled. "Righ'. We'll be splitting into groups - Harry, Calla, Padma, yeh'll be with me. Malfoy, Longbottom, Hermione, you'll be together, too. Summat's been attacking the unicorns, we want to find out what."

"I want Fang," Malfoy said sharply.

"Alright," Hagrid said. "But I warn yeh, he's a right coward." As if to prove Hagrid's point, Fang whimpered, and Calla but back a smile as she stroked his head. "If any of yeh gets into danger, send red sparks up with yer wand, alright?"

They all nodded and separated. Whatever was hurting the unicorns, it must be evil, Calla thought. Unicorns were the purest magical creatures - to slay One was to give up one's own innocence. Drinking its blood would keep a wizard alive even if they were inches from death, but it would curse their soul, their life. All of a sudden, Calla was hit was a curious thought.

She had shot down all of her friends' opinions about someone stealing the stone, but she had to admit that this did raise some doubts with her own mind. Both the stone and unicorn's blood had healing properties, and could make one effectively immortal. What if they were linked? What if whoever was attacking the unicorns was really after the stone? She wished she'd brought the map down with her to see if anyone was lurking in the forest, but she hadn't been thinking, and it was hidden inside her pillowcase in the Ravenclaw dormitory. Damn it.

"Look," Harry said to Calla, breaking the somewhat awkward silence that had settled between them. "I'm sorry for being annoyed at your twenty points, but I just didn't think it was fair, and honestly, you keep icing me out and I don't think it's fair."

"I think it's perfectly fair," Calla replied, though her heart wasn't huge in the argument, mind preoccupied with other things. "Besides, your punishment could have been way worse if I hadn't stepped in, but you didn't so much as thank me."

"Alright," Harry said in exasperation. "Thank you." Calla smiled. "I still don't think it's fair, though."

Her face fell, and frustration grew within her. "Why? Why is it so unfair?"

"Because you manipulated McGonagall and Flitwick into letting you off, spun them that sob story to get them on your side, and you got off because people pity you!"

"Exactly," Calla hissed. "You get off from things because you're the boy who lived, because you're famous and people look up to you and you're said to be powerful, and you know what, that's good for you! You can use that, and you do, without even realising it! But people don't look up to me: they pity me. So I use that, because I might as well, right?"

"You used them!" Harry said, narrowing his eyes. "It's a rather Slytherin trait actually."

"And that's bad? The Sorting Hat considered me for Slytherin, you know." There was actually a semblance of surprise on Harry's face. "But that doesn't mean I'm evil, does it? You know, asides from Parkinson and Malfoy, how many Slytherins have actually been mean to us? Resourcefulness, cunning, ambition, power... those things don't make someone evil. Just like everyone says Ravenclaws are all boring nerds. We're not. We value intelligence, and creativity, and uniqueness, individuality. By very definition, we aren't all the same boring people. I'm a very different person than Lisa Turpin, right? And Zacharias Smith is very different from Hannah Abbott, and Ron and Hermione are about as different as can be!" She took a deep breath: they were getting off track. "My point is, just because I used that pity to get out of worse punishment doesn't mean I'm a bad person, it just means I know how to get out of things and use people's opinions of me to my advantage. Got it?"

Harry, to his merit, looked somewhat humbled by Calla's rant. "I guess," he said. "You know, I was considered for Slytherin, too."

Calla wasn't altogether surprised - he had proved resourceful and ambitious before, even if he lacked the cunning nature. "And there you have it. Come on, we've almost lost Hagrid and Padma."

Just as they hurried to catch up, they heard a Neville-like shriek from further in the forest and red sparks flying up in the air. They exchanged horrified glances as Hagrid and Padma came rushing towards them, before sprinting to where Neville was sitting with Hermione, cowering away from Malfoy. Calla knew instantly what had happened - Malfoy had been a prat, as per usual.

"Right," Hagrid said annoyed, after hearing the story of how Malfoy had snuck up on Neville as a joke, and how Neville had panicked. "Change of plans. Neville, Padma, Hermione, you three are with me. Harry and Calla, go with Malfoy. He'll have a tougher time scaring you two."

Personally, Calla wasn't sure if he was correct in that assumption, but from the look on Neville's ashen face, she didn't want to argue with Hagrid.

The trio set off on a disgruntled path through the forest, until Calla caught a glimpse of bright white through the trees and almost shrieked, not noticing how Malfoy scampered off in terror.

A unicorn lay slain on its side, silver blood trickling down from its neck in a grotesque way. And over the slain creature was a hooded figure in a cloak. Calla gasped and the figure turned its head, and everything suddenly went into slow motion.

She saw Harry clasp a hand to his forehead, and her own head was bursting with pain. Her vision swam and her legs turned to jelly as the world around her changed suddenly like a film set.

She was standing in a Chamber, a mirror before her with the words 'Erised straerhr ouytu becaf ruoyton wohsi' inscribed on the frame. She stared at it, coming closer, and froze.

It wasn't just her in the frame. She looked behind her, but there was no one else in the room, yet when she looked back in the mirror... Harry was there. Harry, without a scar, standing next to her, also without a scar. And behind them was a man who looked like an older version of Harry and could only be their father, alongside a woman with their eyes who had to be their mother. And then there was Uncle Moony, grinning at them and ruffling Harry's hair, grinning.

Just as she reached out to them, to hold her mother's hand, the scene disappeared and was replaced by the present day once more, Harry standing over her with a crowd of their friends and Malfoy.

"What happened?" she asked, sitting up. They were no longer in the forest, but outside Hagrid's hut, all quite pale and shaken, even Malfoy.

"You fainted, Cal," Harry said, green eyes wide and brimming with tears. "When we saw that figure."

"Oh." That figure had shaken her, had hurt her head and Harry's scar, she could tell. She knew it meant something, but right now she was altogether too frazzled to put it all together. "Right."

"Cal, what happened? Did you -" Harry dropped his voice to a whisper. "Did your scar hurt?"

She nodded. "Whole forehead. Bursting with pain."

He looked behind him at the forest, scared. "Me too."

 **And it's officially 2018!! Apologies for the delays in updating, the holiday season is a bit wild for me, but I hope you've all had a good one for those who have been celebrating!**

 **I hope everyone's had a good 2017, and wishing you all the best in 2018!!**


	13. Ch12 - Through the Trapdoor

June 24th

Exams had come to a relieving end, and Calla was glad to be well shot of them. With the exception of Charms and Potions, her practical work had been abysmal, and she only hoped that her constant theory revision had been sufficient in making up the grades. She'd managed to make her pineapple dance across Flitwick's desk just fine in Charms, and it had even curtsied at the end, which made him coo and clap his hands together in delight, and her Forgetfulness Potion hadn't had a single negative comment from Snape, which was high praise for Calla.

Everything else had been awful.

She'd had three attempts at repotting her Babbling Bulbs in Herbology, and thankfully Professor Sprout had been perfectly nice about it all when she split a pot of compost over the floor. McGonagall had been quite evidently unimpressed by her feeble attempt at turning a mouse into a snuffbox, though Calla thought the pretty designs on it may have made up for the fact that it still had whiskers and squeaked every now and then.

But the exams were all over now, and her main concern was not schoolwork, but the Philosopher's Stone. Doubt had been niggling at the back of her mind, and try as she might to preserve her pride, it bothered her. Someone had tried to steal the stone from Gringotts, after all, hadn't they? And maybe on Halloween the troll had been let in to try and get to the Stone, although what Snape's motivations had been -

She sat up with a jolt. "No," Calla muttered, digging around for her map. "No, no, no."

Oh, how had she been so stupid? She quickly muttered, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," and watched tensely as the map opened up. "Oh, for goodness' sake, get on with it!" she hissed, and apparently the map had heard her, for the ink moved faster, filling the parchment.

She found what she wanted to. Quirrel was still in his office, though there was another name there - Tom Riddle. She had no idea who that was, but it didn't matter. He was still there, for now.

She quickly snatched up another piece of parchment and a quill, scratching out over her bedside table.

Evidence Pointing to Snape

\- He was trying to get past Fluffy (possibly)

\- He doesn't like Harry

\- Possibly involved in the Dark Arts

\- Threatening Quirrel

It wasn't exactly powerful stuff, but that was the exact evidence that they had: weak.

Quickly, she dipped her quill back into the ink.

Evidence Pointing to Quirrel

\- Was in Diagon Alley the day of the break in

\- Was the first to notice the troll in the dungeon

\- The troll wasn't in the dungeon??

\- Was in Albania for a while

\- Albania has connections to Voldemort

\- Was in the stands for Harry's Quidditch game

\- Was in the third floor corridor that night

\- Has a weird smell (not really evidence, but true)

\- Was arguing with Snape

\- Apparently underwent a drastic personality change after being in Albania

She gasped. How had she never seen it before? How had none of them ever seen it before?

She had to find her friends. Now.

Stuffing the parchment in her pocket and whispering a quiet "Thank you," to the map, Calla grabbed her bag and wand, racing to the Common Room. Harry, Ron and Hermione were with Hagrid, while Padma appeared to be in the library with Parvati and Lavender Brown.

She'd go to Padma first - then they'd go find the others together.

Calla didn't think she'd ever run so fast as she did going to the library, grabbing Padma by the wrist frantically and tugging her along with her, going too fast to notice the bewildered glances and Daphne Greengrass following hastily after them, scared.

"Harry!" Calla shouted, seeing him and their friends rushing up from Hagrid's hut. "Harry, Ron, Hermione, I've worked it out!"

"Calla, Padma!" Harry panted. "Thank goodness you're here, we were just going to find you. Snape knows how to get past Fluffy, he's going after the stone tonight, while Dumbledore's gone."

"Dumbledore's gone?" Padma asked, eyes wide in terror. "We're done for!"

"It's not Snape," Calla said, panting.

"Calla, I know you don't want to believe-"

Hermione started, but Calla cut her off.

"No, it's not Snape," she said, as firmly as she could. "It's Quirrel. I've worked it out, you see. We need to guard the corridor, and stop him from going there. There's a passage that leads to near the door where Fluffy's kept, we can stay there and keep an eye on things."

"We'll be caught," Ron said. "We have to go and get the stone before Snape does."

"It's Quirrel!" Calla repeated. "And Besides, we won't." Truth be told, she was rather enjoying this feeling of importance. "See, I have this map, it shows where everyone is. I have to keep an eye on Quirrel, then when he gets there we can, I don't know, intercept him. Harry, Hermione, you two are best at defence, you'll know what to do! But you have to trust me, okay?"

"Calla, I don't-"

"Trust me," she ordered, a steely sort of anger rising within her, and a grin appearing when they fell silent at her words. "Just trust me. This is - this is one of the few things I can do, is work things out. Please, trust me, I have all the evidence, and it's real evidence."

She had Harry and Padma on her side, she knew that. Calla turned to Ron and Hermione, both of whom were looking at her skeptically. "Do you two believe me?" she asked, vulnerability in her tone. If they didn't, who knew what would happen?

"Yes," Hermione said, staring at her. "Yes, we do." The pair grasped hands, grinning. "What do you want us to do?"

"Just follow me," Calla said. "It'll get dark soon, everyone will be in their beds. That's when he'll strike, I'm sure of it. Harry, if you can, get one of our owls, tell Uncle Moony what's going on."

"Got it," he said. "Ron, Hermione, tell Calla and Padma what we found out from Hagrid, I'll be right back."

Calla was only half listening to Ron and Hermione's explanation about how Fluffy could be subdued by music, and how almost every teacher was helping to guard the stone, including Snape and Quirrel. She was still focused on Quirrel's name, waiting for the moment when he would leave his office and head for the third floor corridor, praying that they could intercept him, stop him. Maybe Dumbledore would come back, maybe one of the other teachers would come along.

"Let's go," Harry said, appearing beside her. She'd been so focused on Quirrel that she hadn't noticed Harry's name drawing closer to her, and she nodded. They could go to the dungeons, take a right just before the Potions classroom, and then climb up the stairs to the third floor corridor.

Calla took her brother's hand and the group of friends made a human chain, rushing down to the dungeons and slipping into the passage, closing it behind them.

The passage was dimly lit by torches on the walls, illuminating the five friends in a ghostly light. All of them were too focused on the task at hand to hear the extra set of footsteps behind them, and Calla was too focused on Quirrel's name to notice Daphne's with them.

"He's moving," she whispered, heart thumping. This was it, she could feel it. They'd either fail, or they'd win, and Calla had no truthful idea how to do the latter. "Quicker."

They hastened their pace, coming to the end of the passage and leaning against the passage. Only then did Calla notice the extra in their numbers.

"Daphne?" she choked, drawing everyone's attention to the little blonde Ravenclaw. Padma and Ron both drew their wands, and Daphne gulped.

"You're going to fight him, aren't you? You - all this nonsense about Nicholas Flamel, this is what it comes to? You're going to try and fight a grown teacher, a Death Eater, yourselves? Do any of you have any concept of self-preservation?"

"This is about more than just us," Ron said angrily. "If you can't accept that then why don't you keep your snooty pureblood nose out of our business and shove off to chat with Malfoy and Parkinson like Mummy and Daddy would like."

Calla watched as Daphne clearly withheld a snarl. "I understand why you don't like me, Weasley. But please trust me, I'm sill your friend and I want to make sure pure all okay. You don't have to do this - we're twelve, for goodness' sake! Tell a teacher!"

"They don't listen," Ron shouted. "And you're not our friend, you abandoned us!"

"That's a lot more complicated than you think, Ronald!" Daphne shouted back. "I get it, but I am your friend, and I'm keeping you lot safe!"

"Guys!" Calla shouted, and they fell silent. Quirrel had disappeared from the corridor, and indeed from the map. With a sickening feeling, Calla knew what had happened. "He's gone. We've wasted all this time arguing and now he's gone."

"Bloody hell," Ron hissed, glaring at Daphne. "This is all your fault, you know."

"Hardly!" Daphne laughed, but Padma shushed them.

"Listen to Calla, guys," she said. "Quirrel's gone and he's going to get the stone if we don't stop him, so quit your bickering and let's go!"

They all exchanged a glance, everybody knowing that she was right. "I'll come," Daphne said, sighing. "If only to stop you all from getting yourselves killed."

Grasping hands, the six of them left the passage, sneaking the few metres towards the disused classroom where Fluffy was kept. The lock was already open and they slipped inside. A harp was propped up against the wall, playing melodically. "That's that sorted," Harry whispered. "Hes sleeping. Look, if we can just get through the door."

"You mean we have to jump down?" Padma asked, eyes wide. "No way. That's mad!"

"We have to," Ron said, though even he looked rather concerned. "Quirrel did it."

"Come on, Padma," Calla said, nervously. "The sooner we get it over with, the better."

Sterling thenselves, all six students crowded around the trapdoor, peering down. "Right," Harry said weakly. "Who's first?"

"I'll go," Daphne said, putting on a brave face. "If I, like, die or something, I'll shout. Got it?"

Without waiting for an answer, she hopped down. "Don't look at me," Calla said, putting her hands up. "I don't know what's going on with her either."

"I'm okay!" Daphne shouted from down below. "You can all jump down now!"

One by one they went, Hermione, then Ron, then Padma, then it was only Harry and Calla standing there. "Together?" Harry asked, eyes round with something reminiscent of fear.

"Together," Calla replied, and they plunged into the darkness.

Call had been expecting a harder landing, but instead found herself wrapped in tendrils. Miraculously, she hadn't dropped her map, but that didn't help much when she was being strangled by what felt like a plant.

"What is it?" Padma shrieked, flailing her arms about. "Some kind of plant?"

"Devil's Snare!" Hermione called, confirming Calla's suspicions. "But how do we get rid of it!"

"Fire!" Daphne shouted. "Remember, Professor Sprout said."

"Of course," Hermione muttered. "But there's no wood!"

"You're a witch!" shriekd three different, but equally exasperated voices.

"Use your bloody wand," Ron hissed, and Hermione yelped.

"Of course! Incendio!"

Flames lit up the chamber and the Devil's Snare shrivelled up, all six of them falling through it and into the ground, panting. "That was the Herbology round, then," Padma panted. "What next?"

"Hopefully something less deadly," Calla whispered, clutching onto the map. She opened it up and peered inside. There was no one coming across the corridor, and Dumbledore still wasn't in the building. Great.

They opened the creaky door, leading into a Chamber where there was a broomstick leant against the wall and another door at the end. What looked like birds floated around the air, but upon further inspection Calla realised they were keys. "You have to catch them," Padma said, looking horrified. She reached up a hand and the keys all recoiled, flitting about. "You have to use the broom." She moved to stare at Harry. "I'm not doing it."

"I think we're all agreed that Harry's the best suited for this job," Calla said, and her friends all nodded.

"Okay," Harry said nervously, taking up the broom. "I'll do it."

It didn't take long for him to grab the key, thrusting it into the lock. Calla reckoned she could have tried a Summoning Charm - it was higher level, but she'd read it and hopefully it would have - but it wasn't needed, and they all rushed into the next room.

It was set up like a giant chessboard, and Calla gulped. Wizard's Chess was, to put it plainly, barbaric. If they had to play... well, Calla didn't want to think of the outcome.

"We have to play our way across the board," Ron said. "I think - I think we have to become the pieces."

Sure enough, when they stepped up to the pieces Ron told them to, the ones that were there shifted out of the way. Calla took up the position of Queen, with Ron as a Knight, Hermione a Rook, Harry a Bishop, Daphne another Rook, and Padma as the King, which she seemed disproportionately offended by.

As Ron commanded them and the other pieces around the board, Calla felt nausea grow in her stomach. This was taking too long. Quirrel might have the stone by now, it could all be over, it could all be over.

And, worst of all, Voldemort could come back.

They were almost winning the game, Calla noticed, glancing up from her map. Dumbledore still wasn't there, and there was no help coming. Couldn't they just catch a break? But her stomach plummeted when she realised what Ron was doing. He was about to sacrifice himself, and Calla felt bile rise in her throat. She couldn't let him get hurt: he was her friend.

"No, Ron!" she shouted. "If you move that way, you'll get hurt!"

"And we'll win!" He shouted back. "See?"

"But you can't! There's another way, if I move this way then-"

"That'd take too long!" Ron shouted. "Trust me, Calla. I - I know what I'm doing."

His face suggested that he really did not know what he was doing, but Calla fell back. She couldn't argue with him, it would waste time... but she didn't want her friend to get hurt, either.

Before Calla knew it, Ron had been unceremoniously knocked from his steed and Hermione had lurched forward, only to be held back by Padma. "We're still playing, remember?" she said, and Hermione nodded. "Come on."

Harry moved into position and yelled "Checkmate!" The king on the other side fell on his sword, and the chess pieces parted to allow the others to move through.

"Someone should stay with Ron," Daphne pointed out, and Hermione nodded.

"I'll do it. You guys don't need me."

"Yes we do, Hermione," Harry protested, but Calla shook her head. Truthfully, with all their combined skills they could cover all bases, if not as quickly as Hermione could.

"You don't. You'll be fine, just... just go." To Calla's dismay, Hermione's eyes were filling up with tears. "Don't get hurt."

"Thank you, Hermione," Calla whispered, rushing forward to hug her bushy haired friend. "You know," she whispered, "you're secretly my favourite:"

Hermione giggled. "I know, Calla. Look after them, will you?"

"You know I will," Calla said back, pulling away. "Look after Ron."

"Come on," Harry said, beckoning Calla through a door and shutting Hermione and Ron on the other side.

They passed through a horrific smelling room, where an unconscious troll lay. It looked like the same on that had attacked them on Halloween, only confirming Calla's suspicions about Quirrel.

The next room they came to was mostly empty, apart from a load of Potions lined up and a piece of parchment next to them on the table. The second that the foursome crossed the threshold, Black Fire leapt up behind them. Clearly, they weren't going to be going back any time soon.

"Look!" Daphne said, rushing to the piece of parchment. They all peered over her shoulder, trying to make out the words.

"Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind," Calla read.

"Two of us will help you, which ever you would find,

"One among us seven will let you move ahead,

"Another will transport the drinker back instead,

"Two among our number hold only nettle wine,

"Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line.

"Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,

"To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:

"First, however slyly the poison tries to hide

"You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;

"Second, different are those who stand at either end,

"But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;

"Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,

"Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;

"Fourth, the second left and the second on the right

"Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight."

"It's a puzzle!" Harry cried, turning to Calla. "You're good with puzzles!"

"I'm really not-"

"You figured out who was really behind this, didn't you?" Harry asked, staring at her pointedly. "You can work it out, Calla. It's what you do - you work at things until you have them figured out."

She took a deep breath. "Okay," Calla whispered. "I really hope I can get this right."

She reread the poem a few times to sort the information. This had to be Snape's challenge, of course: logic was one of the basic principles of Potions, and perhaps why so many wizards struggled with it. There was very little logic about magic, at least on the surface.

Two would be helpful, and those were what thy were looking for. One to move forward, one to move back.

There were two bottles containing wine, while there were three with poison. That made seven in total - of course there was seven.

The nettle wine would always have a poison on its left, ruling out the furthest right bottle.

If the bottles on either end of different, but neither would help, that meant the one furthest left had to be poison. The largest and smallest - the fourth and sixth - weren't poison, meaning that they were either nettle wine, or potions to move.

From the last clue, Calla concluded that the second and sixth bottles were both nettle wine, meaning the fifth and first had to be poison, which checked out as three poisons. If the fourth (the smallest) wasn't poison or nettle wine, it was a potion to move them, and since it was the smallest and therefore would only let one person probably move forward, she was willing to bet that it would move them on. That meant that if the seventh wasn't poison, it must move them backwards, so the fifth was definitely poison.

"Got it!" Calla cheered, and her friends all worked up, grinning. "The one furthest right will send us back, the one in the middle - the smallest - will take us forward." Her face fell. "But there's only enough for one."

"Harry should go," Padma said, glancing apologetically at Calla. "He's better at Defense, no offence."

"I agree," Daphne said. "Sorry. But I just have a feeling..."

"Okay," Calla said. Secretly, she was glad that she didn't have to face Quirrel herself, but something nagged at her. "Harry, before you go, I - I think there might be a mirror there." It was a long shot, and she'd been halfway to hysterics when she'd had that vision or whatever it was, but it was a shot nonetheless. "It won't show you, but it'll show what you want, what you really want. It showed me us with our parents and Uncle Moony." He opened his mouth to speak, but Calla shut him off. "I can't explain right now. Just... what is your heart's desire? What do you want more than anything?"

"Right now? To get the stone, to save it!"

"You can't say that," Calla said. "Don't say what you really see if it has anything to do with the stone, Okay? Make something up, just... I don't know, I might just be blabbering no sense, but please. Be careful."

"I'm always careful," Harry joked.

"No, you're not," Calla laughed, though nerves sill swam in her stomach. "Be safe, okay?"

"Let's go," Daphne said, glancing worriedly at the fire. Without a word, she drank the potion, passing it to Padma who took a sip, and left the last tiny morsel for Calla. She drank the final drop, and sighed.

"I love you, Harry," Calla said over her shoulder. "Look after yourself."

The trio walked forwards the fire, and Calla winced as it washed over her. Daphne and Padma disappeared, and then... she was still there, but burning. She yelled, feeling the red hot pain shoot up her arm, paralysing her.

"Cal!" Harry shouted, noticing that she didn't move. A sick feeling churned her stomach. She'd barely had a drop of that potion, it was really meant for no more than two. If Daphne hadn't come along... she couldn't blame her for this pain. It wasn't important, Harry need to get the stone and stop Quirrel, because if Voldemort came back then Harry would be his first target.

"Go!" She shouted, trying to forget the agony on her skin, burning into her mind. "Go, Harry, I'll be alright!"

"You're burning, Cal!" he protested with a sob. "There has to be something to help you in here."

"There's poison and wine," Calla chuckled. "If someone couldn't get through, do you honestly think Smape would take precautions? Just go." She reached for her map. It was closed, but she didn't need any other names right now. "I'll be alright, Harry."

"Calla, you're in pain!"

"I'm fine," she lied, gritting her teeth against the searing pain. It was getting worse and worse, but she couldn't succumb... she had to make sure Harry went through. "I've got Uncle Moony, and Dad."

"What?" Harry asked. "How do you-"

"I'll explain later," she said, and he seemed to take this as reassurance that she'd be okay. "Please, just go. I promise, I'll be alright. If I'm not, feel free to murder me."

"Calla, you know that's not funny!" Harry said, and she gave a weak chuckle.

"I know. Go, please."

With a final scared glance at his sister, Harry took a swig of the potion and walked through the flames.

As Calla lay there, voice waning and mind darkening, she croaked at the map. "Alright there, Dad?" she asked, watching as letters appeared on the page. "Uncle Moony?"

"Mr Moony says get yourself out of there, for goodness' sake!" she read, and giggled deliriously.

"Mr Prongs says he's proud as all hell, but if Calla Potter doesn't get to safety soon she's going to die and please, he doesn't want that."

Calla laughed, not quite knowing what she was doing as she stumbled towards the table with the Potions in a vain hope that the bottles may refill sometime soon. Just as she reached for the table, her mind went blank, and the last thing she remembered was the revolting, riotous pain.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Harry stepped through the flames, but his mind wasn't on Voldemort or Quirrel or Snape. Instead, all he could think of was his sister, lying there in pain. He should have stayed behind, he thought. He should have saved her, stayed with her to keep her safe. He didn't care about Voldemort - none of it would matter if Calla died.

But he raised his head and met the eyes of Professor Quirinus Quirrel.

Some part of him hadn't quite believed that Calla was right; he'd wanted to badly to be correct, for Snape to be the guilty party. But it wasn't. It was quivering, stuttering Professor Quirrel, and in a way that made it almost worse.

"You," Harry snarled. "You're behind this!"

"Of course," Quirrel said, and his voice was not stutter as normal, but high and cold. "What, suspect Snape?" He quirked an eyebrow. "Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? And next to him, who on earth would suspect poor, stuttering little Professor Quirrel?"

Harry's face contorted in rage. If Quirrel hadn't tried to get to the stone, they wouldn't have had to be doing this, Calla wouldn't be burning up in the adjacent room.

"Use the boy," hissed a voice, and Harry realised with a jolt that this may be Lord Voldemort. It didn't unnerve him as much as it maybe should have - perhaps because he was too preoccupied worrying about his sister, perhaps because he had never been afraid of the name as most people were.

"Potter!" Quirrel said sharply, pushing Harry in front of a mirror. "Tell me, what do you see?"

He glanced in the mirror. He and Calla were standing side by side, and he had his hands in his pocket. He was shuffling about in it and pulled, to his shock, a small, gleaming red stone. A wide grin spread over Harry's face, and his mind slipped to Calla in the next room. If the Elixir of Life could heal someone, grant them immortality, it could save his sister.

"Tell me, Boy!" Quirrel shouted. "What do you see?"

Calla had told him to lie. "I - I see me and Calla. With - with our parents. We're all smiling, and I - I'm Quidditch Captain."

"He lies," the voice hissed. "The boy lies. Give him to me, Quirrel. Give him to me!"

"A - as you wish, my Lord," Quirrel said, gasping. Harry drew in a sharp breath as Quirrel unwrapped his turban, revealing a face popping out the other side with a pale face and great, red eyes.

"Voldemort," Harry snarled, pushing away his fears about him and his sister.

"Tell me what you see, Potter," Voldemort's face hissed on the back of Quirrel's head - still a rather odd image.

"Never!" Harry shouted. "You killed my parents - my sister is in danger because of you!"

"Ah, Potter," Voldemort hissed, coming closer to him and Harry gulped. Try as he might to be brave, this was the man who killed his parents. And staring into his red eyes, Harry felt the worst pangs of fear. "You see, we could be so powerful, you and I." His eyes lingered on Harry's scar, and for the first time, he wanted to hide it and all that it stood for. "If you give me that stone, I could bring back your parents. Your sister is dying in the next room, Potter. We could save her with that Elixir, if you only give it to me."

The funny thing was, Harry knew Voldemort wasn't lying. He could save Calla, he could, and he knew where the stone was. Without even thinking, Harry stuck his hand in his pocket, and found... that the stone wasn't there. "Give it to me, Potter," Voldemort hissed.

"I - I don't have it," Harry said, hopelessness sinking in. "I don't know where it is! I thought-"

"You want to fool me, boy!" Voldemort yelled, and Harry leapt back. "I am Lord Voldemort!"

"It's not there," Harry said, emptiness filling his heart. He couldn't help Calla if he didn't have it... she could die. He couldn't let her die!

"Do not lie to me!" Voldemort yelled, grabbing Harry's face. He yelled, but not as much as Voldemort did, recoiling as though Harry had burned him.

His mind went quickly. Maybe he could only get the Stone when Voldemort wasn't around? That would make sense after all... If Harry's touch had burned Voldemort, then could he do it again?

Barely stopping to consider anything else, Harry lunges forwards and grabbed Voldemort's head. The dark wizard fought back, but he began to burn under Harry's touch, shrieking as he crumbled and crumbled into a pile of ashes on the floor. Harry stepped back in shock, face paling as he took in the scene before him. Voldemort was a pile of crumbs on the floor, he was alone, and Calla was still in the next room.

He felt faint, sickened at what he'd just done, what he'd just been tempted to do, to hand Voldemort his life back... Harry stumbled, gripping his wand tightly, and fell, crashing into the stone floor, blacking out.

xxxxx


	14. Ch13 - Recovery

June 29th

Calla awoke in the Hospital Wing a few days later, and the first sight she saw was her brother lying in the bed adjacent to hers, with Uncle Moony leaning over him. "Harry?" she croaked, head pounding. Almost instantly, her godfather whipped around, rushing towards her and kneeling beside the bed.

"Calla!" he cried, throwing his arms around her and she moved stiffly to reciprocate. After a moment where Calla saw him wipe at his eyes, his gaze turned stern. "Calla Lily Potter," Uncle Moony said, gaze stony. "What on Earth were you thinking?"

She bit her lip. This would be a tricky one to explain. Of course, at first she had tried to avoid getting involved, but when thing had led to another and she'd gotten caught up in her sheer excitement at workin it out... "I'm sorry," she said. "I guess I got caught up in the excitement of everything and I got carried away. But no one was listening to us, Professor McGonagall wouldn't do anything about it and Dumbledore was away and it would have been too late otherwise so we had to do something!" At least her voice was coming back a bit she thought, coughing a little as she finished. "Is Harry alright?" Calla asked eagerly, looking over at her brother. "Was he hurt?"

"What happened?" Calla asked, eyes wide. Last she remembered was pain, and ink appearing on the map, reminding her to look after herself, to be safe. "All I remember was the map, and my arm..."

"You walked headfirst into magical fire, Calla," Uncle Moony said, though there was a glimmer in his eye. "Can't say I'm not proud of your bravery, but it was a silly thing to do."

"I thought it'd work," Calla said, frowning. "I thought the potion would let me go through, but it didn't, I don't think I'd taken enough. It hurt." She held back a sob, not wanting Uncle Moony to see her cry when she shifted her arm under the bedsheets. "It was like agony, and Harry wanted to stay but I told him he couldn't, he had to go on, he had to stop Quirrel!"

And that was the most important thing, wasn't it? Because if Voldemort came back, he'd kill Harry and Uncle Moony too, probably, and Calla couldn't let that happen to either of them. "I understand your reasoning, Calla," Uncle Moony sighed with a soft smile. "But you have to understand... I was worried. I'd hate for anything bad to happen to either of you, and you got hurt very badly. I've been worried for days, and so has Harry!"

"I'm sorry, Uncle Moony," Calla said sheepishly. "I didn't want to worry you, I never even considered that I'd get hurt, in all honesty."

"I know, dear." Uncle Moony stroked her hair in a distinctly father-like way. "The important thing is that you're alright."

"And I am!" Calla insisted, wincing as she moved her arm. "See?"

"I admire your bravery, Calla," her godfather chuckled. "Now, I see your admirers have left you an abundance of sweets. What do you say to some chocolate frogs, eh?"

They spent the next short while in perfect harmony, laughing over chocolate frogs and Bertie Bott's Beans, before Harry woke up and gave a cry of excitement, spotting Calla. "Cal!" he shouted, swinging himself out of bed.

"Sit down, Harry," Uncle Moony chuckled. "Madam Pomfrey'll have my head."

Clearly, Harry didn't care, for he rushed towards his sister, hugging her tighter than he ever had before. It would have been suffocating had Calla not needed exactly that in this moment. "I thought you were going to die," Harry mumbled, and Calla felt his hot tears on her hair.

"Don't be silly," she giggled, though the thought had occurred to her during the time down there. "I was never going to die! I just... had a momentary lapse in consciousness."

"You scared me," Harry admitted, eyes round and forlorn. "I was worried, Calla. I should never have allowed you to come, to get hurt like that!"

"As if I would have let you stop me. Besides," she admitted softly, "neither of us were quite thinking straight, were we?"

"Suppose not," Harry admitted. His gaze drifted to her bedside table. "You've got a present from Zacharias Smith?" He asked, wrinkling his nose. "How come?"

"Because I make friends with people, Harry," Calla laughed, surprising herself. Truth be told, she wasn't sure how she'd come about to have more friends than Harry did, since that was never really her intention, but she did, and right now she valued that more than a lot of things. "See, I've got one from all the Ravenclaws in my year, even Lisa, and most of the Hufflepuff girls. Ooh, Justin's sent me a book, you know he loves Narnia, right?"

Harry stared at her before he started to laugh, joy spreading across his features. "I'm glad you're okay," he said softly. "Really."

"Me too, Harry," Calla smiled, clutching her brother's hand tighter than was strictly necessary. "Me too."

"Ah, Miss Potter," Madam Pomfrey said, bustling over with a warm smile. "You're awake. Now I trust you haven't been keeping her awake, Remus?" she asked sternly, and Uncle Moony shook his head.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Poppy."

"That's still Madam Pomfrey to you," she said, chuckling. "Now, Mr Potter, I thought I told you not to get out of bed. You're still recovering!"

"Sorry, Miss," Harry said sheepishly, slinking back to his bed.

"Now, dear, I just have to change your bandages. I'm afraid you gave us all quite a fright when you turned up lient hat - your arm took the worst of it." She drew the curtains around Calla's bed, and Calla could vaguely hear Harry's protestations. "Remus, are you sure you'd like to remain here? The injuries are not particularly nice on the eye."

"I'm sure," Uncle Moony said, giving Calla a reassuring smile. "I'm staying right here with my goddaughter, as long as she wants me."

"Thanks," Calla said, as Madam Pomfrey lifted her arm from under the sheets. Even thought the bandages, Calla could see the wounds on her skin, and she shuddered.

"I'm sorry if this stings a little," Madam Pomfrey said soothingly, as she unwrapped the bandages. Calla watched as the nurse soaked fresh bandages in cool water; anything to distract from the mess on her arm. "I've mixed these with some Burning Bitterroot Balm to ease your pain, and if you hold still I'll put on some Burn Healing Paste."

Calla looked away from the burden on her arm as Madam Pomfrey applied the gloopy paste. Even just the fleeting glance she'd given the arm was enough to make her recoil. The flesh was blackened like tar, and she knew that even if Madam Pomfrey succeeded in healing her, the scars would remain for years to come.

She didn't look back until the bandages were back on, concealing her arm. "I'm still not sure why your arm had most of the burn," Madam Pomfrey said, furrowing her brow. "But count yourself extremely lucky it wasn't more severe. You've been very brave, you know. Greater wizards have fainted at the sight of burns like these."

Indeed, Calla did feel rather queasy, but she decided to hold back on sharing this information. "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," she said quietly.

"Of course, my dear," the nurse said kindly. "Now, I believe the headmaster is here to see you and your brother. I said strictly no visitors outside of family, but well, here we are!" She didn't seem particularly annoyed by Dumbledore's request, merely amused, and Calla decided she rather like the kind eyes nurse. "Now, Remus, if you'd be so kind as to leave the children with the headmaster?"

"Of course," Uncle Moony said. He kissed Calla once on the forehead and ruffled Harry's hair, before bidding them a farewell and opening the door for the headmaster to enter.

"Good evening, Potters," he said in a dreamy voice, blue eyes twinkling like stars. "I trust you have been kept up to date on the goings on of the school?"

"Not really," Harry shrugged. "Madam Pomfrey won't let me leave my bed, and Calla's only just woke up."

"I see," Dumebldroe said, eyes twinkling. "Well, I must inform you that what happened between Harry and Professor Quirrel is a strict secret... so, naturally, the entire school knows about it." Harry chuckled lightly, but Calla wasn't particularly amused. Did everybody know what had happened to her arm?

"Sir, what happened to the stone?" Harry asked, eyes wide. "I'd seen it in the mirror and I was going to take it out, but when I tried it wasn't there."

For a brief moment, Dumbledore looked troubled by this proclamation. "The mirror is an incredibly tricky thing, Harry," he said at last. "No doubt you were distracted when you looked into it. You see, the Mirror of Erised shows nothing more or less than the deepest desire of our hearts. Now, tell me, at that moment was the Philosopher's Stone your main priority?"

Harry shook his head no. "I was worried about Calla," he said, and to Calla it sounded like he was trying to apologise for something. "I thought she was dying, I wanted to save her, that was all!"

"I see, Harry," Dumbledore said, but his eyes were twinkling no longer. "And I understand your predicament. But, you see, that is the beauty of the mirror. Only one who wants the stone - wants to have it, but not use it - could retrieve it. And in that moment, you wanted to use it didn't you?"

"I - I wouldn't have hurt anyone!" Harry protested, and Calla narrowed her eyes. What was he on about? "I swear, I wouldn't have really done it, I wasn't thinking, he tempted me and I needed to save Calla!"

A sick feeling turned Calla's stomach. Who exactly was this 'he'? "Harry, what happened?" she demanded, eyes stony.

He turned to her, frightened more than Calla had ever seen him. "Voldemort said if I gave him the stone, he could save you, that you'd be alright. I thought you were dying, I had to do something, so I - I tried to."

"You tried to give it to him," Calla said, lost.

He'd really been about to give the world's darkest wizard the key to immortality just to save her life? She knew the sentiment didn't say much about her selfpreservation, but she wasn't really worth that, was she? "He would have killed you instead," she told Harry. "You and everyone else I care about. I don't matter enough for you to do that."

"You matter to me," Harry said plainly. "You're my twin sister, and it was my fault you were in danger in the first place."

"Let us not dwell on fault or blame," Dumbledore said, lightly changing the mood. "I believe you two have an end of term feast to attend, don't you?"

While Calla was excited, Harry groaned. "That's right," he said. "I missed the Quidditch match. We lost really badly." He glanced at Calla. "Ravenclaw won the Quidditch Cup."

"Yes!" Calla cheered, before wincing. "I mean, sorry, Harry. That's really tragic."

He chuckled. "Yeah, well, there's always next year, right?"

"Yeah," Calla laughed. "And we've still got one last feast to attend."

xxxx

By the time Harry and Calla had managed to get changed for the feast and traipse down to the Great Hall, they were very nearly late, and had to make all too hasty goodbyes at the entrance doors.

"Calla!" Padma cried when she saw her, leaping up to hug her still bandaged up friend. "You're out! Are you okay, what happened? Everyone's been talking about it, you didn't come through the fire with us!"

She said this all faster than Calla thought humanly possible, and she realised with a bare hint of surprise that Padma was concerned for her. Actually, truly concerned. With the exception of Harry and Uncle Moony, she'd never seen that expression on someone's face and directed at her, and it was almost a shock. But when she turned around, she saw that almost all of her Ravenclaw classmates were looking at her with the same concern, even Lisa and Michael.

"I - it's a long story," Calla said timidly, sitting down and hiding between Padma and Daphne. "I guess I just mustn't have had enough of the potion, it wouldn't let me through, and it was fire, so..." She let out a sob, cursing herself. "It burned me." There were gasps all around her.

"It burned you?" asked a second year girl, eyes wide. "Are you alright? How bad was it?"

"Madam Pomfrey's helped me," Calla said nervously, biting her lip. Her arm still hurt, but she didn't want to let on about that, didn't want everyone to pity her more than they already did. "It's all bandaged up so no one can see it, but ... I'm doing better." She nodded, more to convince herself than anybody else at the table.

"That's awful," Padma said, aghast. "Daphne and I were so terrified when you didn't come through with us, weren't we, Daphne?"

Calla found herself somewhat surprised to see the Greengrass girl smiling at her, traces of concern shimmering in her eyes. "I - I thought you were dead," Daphne whispered. "I felt awful, you know. If I hadn't tagged along then there would have been enough for you to get through. And I suppose, if I hadn't been such a bitch the past few months, I could have helped you all plan a bit better."

Calla stared at her, hoping to find an apology in Daphne's words. "My parents weren't happy that I'd been sorted out with Slytherin, you see," Daphne said, eyes downcast. "I thought they would be okay, but they clearly weren't. They said they didn't want me associating with you because you were frowned upon by loads of their acquaintances, and they still care about keeping up appearances and maybe it was dumb of me, but I didn't want to let them down."

Calla's heart lurched at Daphne's story, everything suddenly slotting into place: the flickers of concern, the trying to stop them from getting into trouble. She'd cared, she just hadn't been allowed to show it.

"It's okay," Calla said, smiling gently. "I - I forgive you."

The two grinned at each other, first friends, best friends, and embraced on another tightly, smiling.

Their conversation was cut short, however, by Dumbledore clinking his spoon on a goblet, snatching the attention of all in the Hall.

"Attention!" Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling. "It is now time to announce the House Cup!" Calla withheld a groan. The recent dragon fiasco had put Gryffindor at the bottom of the table and it had stayed there. Harry would be complaining all summer long about the awful defeat.

"The points stand as thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor with three hundred and twelve points." There was a mild smattering of applause for the house, and both Harry and Ron were seen dejectedly glaring at their plates. "In third place, Hufflepuff with three hundred and fifty two points. In second place, Ravenclaw with four hundred and twenty." Thankfully, Calla and Padma's loss hadn't affected Ravenclaw too drastically, especially after they'd both worked to regain points, and the house was still clinging onto second place. There was a raucous apolause for Ravenclaw, but it didn't compensate for Calla's dejection at being only second place. "And finally, in first place, Slytherin, with four hundred and seventy two points!"

The Slytherin table exploded into cheers, some of the older students setting off green and silver sparks of excitement from their wands. Calla clapped along politely, even if she was miffed about her house being in second.

"Yes, yes," Dumbledore said. "Well doen Slytherin, Well done Slytherin. However, recent events must be taken into account."

A hush descended over the hall. Calla's mind started whirring at a hundred miles an hour. Recent events probably meant the incident with Fluffy, but there was no real reason for Dumbledore to bring that up right now. He'd had days to award points: why now? And why in front of everyone.

"I believe some last minute points are to be awarded." Calla watched as the faces of every Slytherin fell into confused dismay. "First, to Mr Ronald Weasley, for the best game of chess Hogwarts has ever seen, I award Gryffindor house fifty points." Calla clapped for Ron - that extra fifty points had let them overtake Hufflepuff. Looking around, Calla could tell that Zach and his housemates were not particularly pleased about this turn of events: it just proved the theory that Hufflepuffs were 'a load of duffers'.

"Secondly, to Miss Padma Patil, for dedication and unwavering loyalty, I grant Ravenclaw twenty points." Personally, Calla thought that 'dedication and unwavering loyalty' was worth more than twenty points if Ron got fifty for playing chess, but she wasn't in any position to debate. Ravenclaw was catching up to Slytherin fast, with four hundred and forty points: thirty two less than Slytherin. "Thirdly, to Miss Daphne Greengrass for redemption and a powerful demonstration of true friendship, I grant Ravenclaw house thirty points."

"Dumbledore's rigging the House Cup!" Calla heard Pansy Parkinson hiss, glaring at Daphne's back. "That's so unfair!"

"Just watch!" Lily Moon sulked. "We'll end up losing to the bloody Potters."

"Fourthly, to Miss Hermione Granger, for outstanding bravery and quick thinking, I award a further fifty points to Gryffindor House."

If Calla's maths was correct, that meant Gryffindor had four hundred and twelve points, while Ravenclaw had four hundred and seventy, two away from a tie with Slytherin.

"Fifth, to Miss Calla Potter," Dumbledore was saying, and she looked up. Whatever reason would he cook up for her? Getting herself into unnecessary danger and almost dying? "For the use of cool logic in the face of adversaries, and bravery when faced with danger, I award Ravenclaw house fifty points."

The place was in urproar. Slytherins screeched In protestation at having their title snatched so cruelly form them, and Calla almost choked on her water. She'd just brought the Ravenclaw total up to five hundred and twenty points. There was no doubt about it; unless Harry won well over a hundred points, Ravenclaw would win.

"And finally," Dumbledore said. "To Mr Harry Potter." The hall fell silent at his name. "For familial loyalty, I grant Gryffindor house twenty points."

Over at the Gryffindor table, Calla was Harry look down somewhat dejectedly, while the Ravenclaws high fived Calla. She caught her brother's eye and grinned at him, which he reciprocated weakly.

"That's so not fair," said Draco Malfoy obstinately, his voice loud enough that Calla could very well have heard it if she'd bothered to listen to him. "We won in the first place! He changed it now just to embarrass us, didn't he?"

"Nice one, Potter!" cheered one of the prefects, and Calla grinned, though a glimmer of thought appeared in her mind. Why hadn't Harry gotten more points? He had fought off Voldemort himself, after all.

She caught her brother's eye and he looked away sharply, turning to Ron and Hermione.

June 30th

"Got everything?" Daphne asked, looking over Calla and her trunks.

They'd checked and double checked for everything that they had brought with them, making sure no one had misplaced jewellery or books. Socks were strewn across the boys' dormitory when Calla and Padma went to return Anthony's Charms book to him, and they left giggling, refusing to help sort through Terry's massive pile of textbooks even when he begged and offered to do their Potions essays for them for the rest of year.

When finally the seven girls traipsed down to the common room with their trunks, they were greeted by Flitwick handing out slips telling students that they weren't allowed to use magic outside of school.

"Doesn't really matter much," Daphne whispered to Calla. "They can only trace the location, not the caster. If you want to visit me during the holidays, we can easily practice."

"Thanks," Calla whispered back, though she doubted that her aunt and uncle would let her visit wizards. Much to her annoyance, she and her brother hadn't been allowed to stay with Uncle Moony for the entire duration of the holidays, as their aunt and uncle still had legal guardianship. Personally, Calla thought the Dursleys would love nothing more than for the Potter twins to bigger off to Uncle Mooney's for the Summer, but as Dumbledore had it, they could no.

Uncle Moony had promised to write to them once he was able after the full moon, to come and collect them for the rest of the holidays at his house, but Calla still didn't want to be at Privet Drive for any longer than strictly necessary. Many of her friends had promised to write and send her birthday cards, and it was a surprisingly welcome feeling. Calla doubted she had ever been more popular among her older housemates, as even in the initial shock at her and Harry's arrival they'd all been more preoccupied with the boy who lived than his overshadowed sister.

It was as they all left for the Hogwarts Express, looking out towards the Summer ahead, that Calla realised with a start what she had even missing for the last twenty four hours: she hadn't seen her map since the potions room. Her pulse quickened and her eyes blew wide when she snatched Harry's hand frantically.

It was her one true tie to her father, to his voice. And she had no idea where it was.


	15. Ch14 - The Start of Summer

July 31st

Calla lay on the grass outside Number 4 Privet Drive, watching as her brother ranted about the Dursleys. "I bet everyone at Hogwarts would love this," he spat in a bitter tongue, rolling his emerald eyes. "The boy who lived stuck cleaning up the garden." He flung his hands up in the air, collapsing onto the grass with a colossal and quite unnecessary huff. "It's so not fair."

"We'll be back at Hogwarts soon," Calla assured him, though truthfully there was more than just a seed of doubt in her mind. They hadn't received a single letter from any of their school friends - not Ron, not Hermione, not Padma or Daphne. Even Uncle Moony hadn't written to them yet, though he'd promised he definitely would once he could have them stay with him. So far, it wasn't seeming to be a likely prospect. "I'm sure we won't have to clean the gardens there."

"We will if Snape has anything to do with it," Harry muttered darkly, and Calla rolled her eyes. Even though she had proven him wrong about Snape last year, Harry still held on to his hatred of the Potions Master. She supposed that he was somewhat entitled; Snape was, for want of a better word, an arse to Harry, though to be fair he wasn't usually much nicer to Calla.

"Let's not give him reason to punish us, then," Calla said decisively, holding out her pinkie finger to Harry. "Pinkie promise, right?"

Harry grinned. "Pinkie promise."

Just then, a shadow loomed over them and the Potter twins looked up lazily to see Dudley's taunting face looking down on them. "What's up, Dudley?" Calla asked, feigning politeness. If she'd thought the Dursleys would be intimidated into treating them better this Summer, then she had been sorely mistaken. The only thing keeping the Dursleys from locking the twins back in the cupboard under the stairs was Dudley's increasingly dwindling fear of growing another pig's tail, and the fact that that was where their school supplies were kept, and there was no way the Potter twins were getting anywhere near magic over this Summer.

"I know what day it is," Dudley taunted, grinning maliciously.

"Well done," Harry drawled. "You finally learnt the days of the week."

Dudley sneered at them, and Calla withheld a giggle. "It's your birthday," he continued, ignoring the jibe. "You haven't got any presents though. Not even from Calla's godfather."

Calla gritted her teeth. It was true. Granted, it had recently been the full moon and that couldn't have been easy for Uncle Moony, but she still felt some bitterness at her and her brother seeming to have been forgotten about. "Shut up, Dudley," Calla hissed, glaring at the pig faced bastard she called a cousin. "Just leave us alone."

"You haven't even got any letters from that school you go to either," Dudley laughed, but his face fell and whitened further when he saw Harry picking up a stick.

"Hocus pocus!" Harry shouted, and while Calla knew that wasn't a real spell - nor was the stick a real wand - Dudley whimpered, clutching his buttocks comically.

"M-mum!" he screamed. "He's doing it! He's doing magic!"

Dudley scampered inside, and Harry tossed the stick away, smirking as he went to sit beside Calla.

"I think you frightened him," Calla observed, barest hint of a smile on her lips.

"He deserved it," Harry muttered, eyes dark. "He was being an arse."

"Language," Calla scolded lightly, smacking Harry on the arm. Personally, she blamed Ronald Weasley for Harry's bad mouth: yet another of their so-called friends they hadn't heard word from. All their friends had promised to write to them over the Summer, and while Calla hadn't been sure if Daphne would be able to communicate her without her parents knowing, or whether Hermione would have the opportunity since neither could send her their phone number to call, and she didn't have an owl, she'd at least expected Ron and Padma to write them. Instead, they'd been seemingly abandoned by the Wizarding World. Were it not for the reminder that her books were in the cupboard under the stairs, and the owls in her and Harry's room, Calla would have thought that it had all been a dream, or a sick joke.

"Potters!" Aunt Petunia screeched from inside the house, no doubt having just heard of the 'magic' Harry had used on Dudley. "Get in here!"

And of course, she'd believe perfect little Dudley over them.

"Time for more chores?" Calla asked, trying to keep her voice light.

"How wonderful," Harry muttered, as Calla hauled him to his feet.

"Your godfather is here to see you," Aunt Petunia snapped when Calla walked in, gesturing to the living room. "Don't keep him long."

Something told Calla that the sooner they could get onto chores, the better for Aunt Petunia. Calla nodded and dragged Harry through to the living room, where her godfather sat nonchalantly reading the newspaper, while Dudley sat on the opposite armchair looking scared for his life. "Uncle Moony?" Calla asked from the doorway, and he stood up with delighted eyes, folding his paper away.

"Ah!" he cried, rushing to hug them. "Calla, Harry! Happy birthday!"

"Th-thanks, Uncle Moony," Harry said, eyes wide. Neither of them had actually been expecting for Uncle Moony to turn up, though they were both excited that he was.

"We didn't think you were coming," Calla whispered as they pulled apart. "You never wrote to us."

Uncle Moony frowned, cocking his head to the side. "You haven't been receiving the letters at all, then?" he asked in confusion. "Arthur Weasley wrote me, said that you hadn't replied to Ron and the twins - I thought maybe you just hadn't been allowed to let your owls out by those sorry two." Dudley whimpered from the armchair. "Sorry, Dudley, didn't mean to offend." Uncle Moony turned back to the twins, still looking concerned. "So you haven't received any of my letters?"

"We haven't gotten letters from anyone," Harry said, crossing his arms. "Not even you. Calla was getting quite upset about it, actually."

"Was not," Calla mumbled, shifting from side to side. Why did Harry have to pick a fight over it? Uncle Moony was here now: that was good enough for her.

"Well, the full moon's gone now," Uncle Moony told them, smiling through the scars that raked over his face. This was the last straw for Dudley, who bolted from the room, and Calla noticed Uncle Moony's face fall at the reaction. "I can take you both to stay with me now, if you'd like. I'm sorry I couldn't do this sooner, but Dumbledore has his orders, and I didn't want to risk putting you two in danger."

"Wait," Harry began, "Dumbledore stopped you from coming to see us?"

"Why?" Calla asked petulantly. There didn't seem to be any reason why Uncle Moony couldn't see them during the Summer, so long as it wasn't the full moon.

"He has his reasons," Uncle Moony said, and Calla noticed Harry grit his teeth. Neither of them particularly liked being left out of the loop, really, though Harry was a lot more explicit about his anger surrounding the topic. "The point is, I've gotten permission to take you two to my house for the rest of the holidays. And I'm sure Petunia and Vernon won't have an issue with that."

Aunt Petunia sniffed from behind them and Calla turned, frowning. "Remus, here is the key for the cupboard. I'm sure you three can manage all of your... supplies."

"Of course, Petunia," Uncle Moony said, taking the key from her. "Right, you two, pack everything else you need and bring your owls down, I'll get your School things out for you, Okay?"

The twins nodded and bounded up the stairs. "Wonder why Dumbledore wanted us here for so long," Harry said, and Calla shrugged.

"I wonder a lot of things about him," Calla told Harry. "I'm more concerned about our letters, to be honest. I told you that we weren't forgotten."

"Yeah," Harry said, as he picked up Hedwig's cage. She squawked in excitement, ruffling her feathers like she was ready to just take flight and get out of the messy room. Calla fully blamed Harry for the state their bedroom was in, of course. "You'll get out soon, girl," he said to Hedwig, soothing her.

"Uncle Mooney's come for us," Calla told her owl, and realised how potentially confusing the choice of name could be. "I'll let you out as soon as I can."

Moony nodded as though she understood, and Calla dropped the last of her owl treats into the cage, where Moony quickly gobbled them all up. "Have you got your case and everything packed?" she asked Harry, who was scrambling about trying to collect things.

"Almost," he said, crawling under the bed to receive four rolled up pairs of socks. Calla grimaced at the sorry state they were in.

"Well, I'm bringing my things down now," Calla said, grabbing the suitcase she'd barely bothered to properly unpack. "I'll take Hedwig with me: she looks like she wants out of this room as soon as she can."

"Yeah, sure," Harry said, taking his scarlet and gold Gryffindor decorations down from the wall. Calla hadn't bothered putting up anything for Ravenclaw, mostly because it would clash terribly with Harry's colour scheme, and also because she had no desire to have her reminders of school torn down by angry Dursleys one day.

Calla huffed as she lugged everything down the stairs, Moony squawking loudly when she caught sight of Dudley. He gasped, and reached out for a moment as if to pet the owl before she snapped her beak at him and he recoiled. Stifling a laugh, Calla set the two owl cages down.

"Harry's just putting everything together," she said to Uncle Moony. "There's loads of Gryffindor posters up on the walls, and he's taking forever to get them off without tearing anything."

"I assume you haven't put up anything for your own house pride, then?" Uncle Moony asked, smile flickering.

"I don't really fancy living in a room with such an awfully mismatched colour scheme, no," Calla told him, grinning. "Plus, I'm plenty proud of my house as it is, given we won the House Cup last year instead of Gryffindor."

Uncle Moony snorted.

"You have school houses, too?" Dudley asked abruptly, before clamping his hand over his mouth like he'd said something wrong.

"Yes, Dudders," Calla said, quirking up an amused eyebrow and sharing a grin with her godfather. "Four of them. There's the boring ones, the annoying ones, the dumb ones - that's Harry's house - and the cool ones. That's me. I'm cool."

"I'll ignore the fact that you just insulted me, too," Uncle Moony said lowly, eyes glimmering.

"Okay, the dumb ones except from Uncle Moony, who should have been in the cool one. Ravenclaw."

Dudley was still staring at the two of them, and he cocked his head to the side. Just as he opened his mouth, Harry clattered down the stairs with his case, pyjamas poking out from where the zip should have been. Clearly, he'd been struggling, and Calla stifled a laugh.

"Are we ready to go?" Harry asked eagerly, barely looking at Dudley. "And can I put my Gryffindor posters up when we get to yours?"

"Yes, I think so," Uncle Moony said. "If Calla agrees."

"Well, I have plenty of house pride leftover from winning the cup, so sure thing, Harry." Calla winked at him, and he glared at her.

"Just because Ravenclaws revise all the time," Harry muttered, and Calla smacked him lightly on the head.

"There's only about three of us who actually care about revising all the time anyway," Calla said. "And Hermione revises ten times more than the whole of Ravenclaw house put together."

"Are you a - a Ravenclaw, then?" Dudley asked Calla, looking perplexed. "Do you... revise?"

"I try," Calla said. "When the dumb house isn't dragging me into their shenanigans."

"We're not dumb!" Harry protested, and Calla giggled.

"No, you're not, you're very... noble."

Uncle Moony laughed again, and Dudley was confused once more. "So... what are the houses?"

"Well, there's Ravenclaw, which is my house," Calla told him, a bit confused as to why he was so suddenly interested in the goings on of the Wizarding World. Maybe he was bored with being a nuisance all the time. "We value creativity, intelligence, and individuality. And we're the best house."

"Are not," Harry mumbled. "Gryffindor is. Aren't we, Uncle Moony?"

Calla's godfather held his hands up. "I'm staying out of this," he said, but neither twin failed to notice the wink he sent in Harry's direction .

"Anyway, Gryffindors are brave, and noble, and courageous," Harry said proudly.

"And reckless."

"Brave," Harry reiterated. "Then there's Slytherin. We don't like Slytherins, they're mean and cruel and they're all bastards."

"Ambition, cunning, resourcefulness," Calla told Dudley, rolling her eyes. "But most of them are bastards too, sometimes."

"Is that all of them?" Dudley asked. "Gryff - Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, And Slytherin."

"No," Calla told him. "There's Hufflepuff, too, and they're-"

"Don't be telling my son about all your lot," Aunt Letunia shrieked, coming into the hallway. "Dudley, were they threatening you again?"

"He asked us!" Harry said, before Calla prodded him sharply in the side.

"You can go now," Aunt Petunia sniffed, looking down her nose at the twins and Uncle Moony. "We've got the Masons coming over later anyway; we don't want you two hanging around ruining Vernon's business deals. You'd completely ruin his Japanese golfer joke."

"Thank you, Petunia," Uncle Moony said, eyes cold when he looked at the Dursley woman. "Nice to see you both again. It has been so long."

Before Aunt Petunia could retort with anything, Uncle Moony had picked up most of the twins' things, and each took their owls, racing to leave the house and giggling as Harry slammed the door in Aunt Petunia's house. "Are we really spending the rest of the holidays at your house, Uncle Moony?" Harry asked excitedly, bounding along on the road.

"Of course you are," he said with a warm smile. "Now, are you two okay with apparition again?" he asked, once they were a safe distance away from the nosy neighbours of Privet Drive.

Both twins groaned. "Sure," Harry said. "Even thought it's really gross."

"You get used to it," Uncle Moony chuckled, and they held onto an arm each. He drew his wand, smiled, and they disappeared into the air.


	16. Ch15 - Letters and Shopping

July 31st, 1992

Harry and Calla were helping to wash up after dinner when they heard Uncle Mooney's shout from upstairs. "You alright, Uncle Moony?" Harry shouted, frowning at Calla, who shrugged. He'd probably bumped his shoulder off of a cabinet or stubbed his toe, but from the shouting that persisted, she concluded that may not have been the case.

"Bloody - house elf!" Uncle Moony shouted, and the twins' eyes gleamed.

"House elf?" Harry asked in a whisper.

"Sounds magical," Calla hissed back, and both nodded in agreement, ditching the dishes in favour of something far more interesting.

They crept up the stairs together, hands on their wands. Though Uncle Moony hadn't allowed them to use their wands without supervision - and Harry was yet to realise that they could use them while in another wizard's home - both had them on them at all times, just for comfort. Following the source of noise, Calla and Harry pushed open the door to their own bedroom, to see a small, wrinkled creature with batlike ears wailing on Harry's bed.

"What's that?" Harry asked, eyes round in curiosity. Calla stared at the creature, trying to work out if it was ugly or cute. It was a tough line to ponder, and Uncle Moony looked at them in mild surprise.

"D-D-Dobby the House Elf," the creature said, and Calla frowned. Okay. She could deal with house elves. He was a bit different from Legolas, though.

"Right," Harry said. "Er, what's - what's happening here?"

"Dobby," Uncle Moony said through gritted teeth, "was just about to give me your letters from your friends. Weren't you, Dobby?"

"No!" the house elf protested, and Calla saw Harry's eyes glint dangerously when he shot her an angry glance. So it was Dobby's fault they hadn't gotten any letters over the Summer? "Harry Potter must not return to Hogwarts this year! Great dangers await him!"

"Like what?" Harry shot back, and Calla set a hand on his arm. He wasn't going to get anywhere by shouting at the elf.

"Dobby mustn't say!" Dobby cried. "Dobby shouldn't even be here, if Dobby's masters found out-" The house elf let out a great cry and lunged towards the wardrobe, hitting his head off of it repeatedly as Calla shrieked in horror.

"Please don't hurt yourself!" she cried, trying to drag Dobby away from the wardrobe. "Please, sit down, we'll hear you out." She glanced at her godfather and brother, quite afraid for the little house elf so hellbent on self destruction. "Won't we?"

Dobby was beginning to sob again, and Uncle Moony grimaced. "Of course," he said. "Now, Dobby, please, don't harm yourself. Tell Harry and Calla what you have done."

"D-Dobby never meant to upset Mr Potter," Dobby said, and Calla withheld a scowl at the way he didn't even notice her. "Dobby thought that if he didn't receive letters, if he thought his friends had abandoned him, then Harry Potter might not want to return to school. Dobby was only trying to protect Harry Potter, see."

"So you stole all my letters?" Harry asked incredulously. "And Calla's, too?"

The house elf cast great watery eyes on Calla, and she stared back at him, pursing her lips in confusion. "Dobby did not mean for Miss Potter to be affected," Dobby said in earnest. "Dobby only meant to protect Harry Potter."

And that was so much better, wasn't it?

"What are you trying to protect Harry from, Dobby?" Calla asked softly, trying to hide her irritation.

"Dobby mustn't say!" Dobby cried, and Calla held him back from flinging himself into another wardrobe. "Dobby has sworn not to say!"

"Dobby, please tell me!" Harry said, eyes wide and frantic. "If you tell me, then I know what to look out for!"

"Shan't! Can't!" Dobby shouted, and Uncle Moony grew even more exasperated with every syllable the little creature uttered. "Harry Potter mustn't return to Hogwarts! Terrible things are to happen!"

"Like what?" Harry cried, clearly angry. This was not getting anywhere, Calla thought with a groan. "Tell me, Dobby! We have to go back to Hogwarts!"

"Dobby cannot say, Mister Potter!" Dobby cried. Calla thought they'd already established that, but apparently not. "But Harry Potter must not return to Hogwarts!"

And just like that, the house elf disappeared in a puff of smoke, and the twins' letters floated to the ground like yellowed butterflies. Didn't look like this would be an easy year, either, Calla thought with a grumble.

xxxxxxx

August 5th, 1992

"Our Hogwarts letters are here!" Harry shouted, waking Calla up abruptly. She groaned and slapped a hand over her eyes to shield from the early morning sun.

"I'm tired, Harry!" she screamed back at him. "Go to sleep!"

"We've got loads from some Lockhart guy! Have you heard of him, Uncle Moony?"

There was scrambling from the next room, moments before Uncle Moony appeared in the doorway, yawning. "Unfortunately, yes. That for Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"Yep," Harry said. "Here's yours, Cal."

"Thanks," she huffed, catching the letter he threw her way. It was heavier than it had been last year, though perhaps that was because of the extensive Gilderoy Lockhart book list that Harry was complaining about. Opening it up, Calla took out the equipment letter first. All the usual things, and Lockhart books. She frowned. There was an awful lot, and from what Padma had told her, his books were incredibly expensive. That wouldn't be a problem for her and Harry, she knew, but even if he'd never admitted to her, Ron's family was far from wealthy, and they had five children to buy for this year.

Finding an extra piece of paper in the back of envelope, Calla frowned and opened it up.

To her horror, it was a letter from McGonagall. Harry and her had been in the hospital wing when exam results had come out, and as such neither of them had found out what their grades were. Harry hadn't gotten a letter - probably because he was actually good at magic.

Calla's letter told a different story.

 _Dear Miss Potter_ , it read in McGonagall's blackest ink.

 _I am writing this on behalf of Hogwarts, to inform you that while you have been accepted into the second year of education, your overall end of year results have been less than satisfactory. Your results are as follows:_

Calla didn't even know if she wanted to know, but she forced herself to read on.

Astronomy: Acceptable

Charms: Outstanding

Defense Against the Dark Arts: Poor

Herbology: Acceptable

History of Magic: Acceptable

Potions: Exceeds Expectations

Transfiguration: Poor

Calla groaned. She'd be willing to bet it was Charms that had saved her from expulsion - Defense had been atrocious, though Quirrel's teaching probably hadn't helped much. She thought Professor Sprout was being generous with her in Herbology, and it was only with Hermione's notes that she'd managed to even do any of the practical transfiguration.

She was fairly certain it was only theory that kept her in school, and that wouldn't do her much use when it came to the more practical work this year.

"What's that you've got there, Calla?" Uncle Moony asked, frowning over at her letter. Calla pursed her lips: God, he'd be so disappointed in her. And she was supposed to be a Ravenclaw, too, wasn't she? She didn't feel particularly intelligent right then.

"J-just my exam results," Calla said. "They're all good, it's just because I didn't see them at the end of last year."

"They never sent me my exam results," Harry said in confusion before Calla could warn him to keep his mouth shut.

Uncle Moony looked at Calla critically and she faltered, words tunbling or. "I may or may or not have gotten a Poor in Defense. And Transfiguration. But I passed everything else!"

"Two classes?" Uncle Moony asked, and Calla winced at the shock on his face. Clearly he hadn't been expecting her to come out with that. "Defense i can understand - you had a simply dreadful teacher - but Transfiguration?" His eyes softened. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Calla mumbled, hiding her face when she felt tears stinging at her eyes. This was embarrassing enough without her turning into a blubbering mess. "I'm just not very good at the practical stuff. I get Charms because I understand the theory, but with the others I just don't get it, and I got an Outstanding in Charms and an Exceeds Expectations in Potions, but everything else was Acceptable or Poor, and I'm not usually bad at school and I did really well in muggle school and I don't get this and magic's just nonsense and I don't get it and-"

She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "Yeah."

"I can write to McGonagall and ask her to help you with Transfiguration if-"

"Oh, no," Calla said. "That's so embarrassing, she probably doesn't even like me since I'm so awful at her subject-"

"Now, Calla," Uncle Moony said sternly. "Professor McGonagall is perfectly fair, and I'm sure she'd be more than happy to help you. She wouldn't have let you continue if she didn't think you were capable of improving. She taught me you know."

"Yeah," Calla sulked, "but you can actually do magic."

"You can do magic, Calla," Uncle Moony assures her. "You've proved that in Charms. Don't put yourself down so much."

"Yeah," Harry said, trying to reassure her but doing a terrible job so far. "You were really good when we were trying to find the stone last year."

"That wasn't actually magic, though," Calla said gloomily. "Just working out riddles."

"Well, I thought it was pretty cool," Harry said, slinging an arm around Calla's shoulders. "Look, Ron wrote to me too, and there's letters from Daphne and Padma from you. They'll be much more interesting than Exam results, won't they?"

"Sure," Calla grumbled, unable to alleviate herself of the irritation she felt. It was fine for Harry: he wasn't the one who was rubbish at magic, was he?

She opened the letters from her friends, far from excited about it. They were both much the same: hoped she was having a good holiday, wishing her a belated birthday seeing as she hadn't properly received their gifts the day of, and planning to meet up to go shopping in Diagon Alley. Honestly, Calla hadn't been expecting Daphne to write her at all, but she'd pulled through, even sending some Honeydukes chocolates as a birthday present for her and Harry, which Calla was dying to delve into.

"What days does Ron say he can meet up, Harry?" Calla asked, peering over his shoulder.

"Any," Harry told her. "He's trying to arrange with Hermione's parents, too, so we can all go together. What about Daphne and Padma?"

"Daphne's going to France on the tenth," Calla said, "and Padma's visiting her aunt and uncle in India between the fifteenth and the thirtieth, so preferably in the next few days."

"I'll write to Molly to help arrange things," Uncle Moony offered kindly. "And you two can do some homework."

He didn't say her specifically, but Calla was certain that had been aimed at her.

xxxxxxx

August 9th, 1992

Diagon Alley was just as amazing as Calla remembered, and she felt a familiar thrill settle into her chest. The brightly painted buildings beamed out over the shining cobbles, and Gringotts at the end of the lane appeared to have gotten even grander than the last time Calla had seen it. Giddy with excitement, Calla turned to her brother and grinned. "I'll race you to Gringotts?" she asked, and Harry smirked.

"You're so going to lose," he said, as Calla shook her head. "Wanna race, Uncle Moony?"

Calla's godfather chuckled, shaking his head. "I think I'll just meet you two there," he laughed.

"Three, two, one," Calla said, and the two shot off through Diagon Alley.

Robes swished around Calla, here and those of passers by, in all colours of the rainbow and of all different patterns. She could almost feel the magic that buzzed around her, and was spurred on towards the bank, grinning at the feeling of being back in the magical world properly.

"Made it!" she shouted, reaching the exterior wall of the bank. She looked around, spying Harry rushing up to her barely a second later, panting.

"Since when did you run so fast?" he asked, huffing.

"Since you did all of your exercise on a broomstick," Calla retorted, grinning when her brother stuck his tongue out at her. "Look," she said, pointing down the alley. "Even Uncle Moony's catching up to you."

Her godfather was, in fact, quite far down the alley, but it was still fun to prod fun at her brother. When Uncle Moony caught up to them, the three went inside Gringotts, and Calla was just as entranced as she had been the first time they were there.

The goblins lining bank desks were just as strangely scary, and they were just as intimidating, but something about the magic in the air made Calla grin as Uncle Moony met with a goblin to take them to their vault.

Uncle Moony shifted uncomfortably in the doorway as the twins scooped up their money into pouches, and Calla smiled at the sapphire bracelet she saw sitting on a high shelf. She couldn't even reach it - and she'd have no use for jewellery right now anyway - but it was really pretty when it caught the light.

Once they'd left Gringotts, they set off for Flourish and Blotts, where they were due to meet their friends. The Weasleys and Grangers were more than happy to meet up, though Padma was having to spend most of her time with Parvati and their parents. Daphne had said she'd convince her parents to let her hang out with them for a while, but they still weren't fans of her friendship choices. Calla was yet to truly realise why it mattered who Daphne was friends with, but she supposed it wasn't really her business. Daphne would tell them if she wanted to, or if she felt she had to.

"Harry!" a voice shouted as they neared Flourish and Blotts and the trio wheeled around to see a whole group of redheads coming towards them. "Calla!"

The sight of almost all the Weasley family was slightly intimidating, Calla had to admit. "Ron!" Harry shouted, and was gone in a flash to hug his friend, grinning from ear to ear. "How have you been!"

"Hello, Mrs Weasley," Calla said timidly when the rest of the Weasleys met with them, giving the older woman a soft smile.

"Just call me Molly, dear," she said kindly. "You must be Calla? Ron's told us all about you."

"Mum," Ron whined, the tops of his ears turning red as Fred and George stifled laughs.

"Ickle Ronnykins is all embarrassed," George taunted, and the little girl behind them grinned.

"Are you Ginny?" Calla asked, seeing her for the first time properly.

Ginny, who looked somewhat surprised to be addressed, blinked before answering. "Yes," she said, smiling. "That's me."

"Ginny's starting at Hogwarts this year," Molly told them, beaming at her youngest child. From what Ron had said, Ginny was the only girl in the Weasley family, and Calla felt a bit of sympathy for her, seeing all her brothers go off to Hogwarts and leave her behind.

"Yeah?" Calla asked, as they began walking, Uncle Moony chatting pleasantly to Mr and Mrs Weasley. "Are you nervous?"

"I guess," Ginny shrugged. "I'm just excited to be with my brothers again. I missed Ron loads when he left last year, and Fred and George didn't even get to send me a toilet seat." Calla didn't question that last part: frankly, she wouldn't have put it past the twins to actually do that. "I hope I'll be in Gryffindor like them."

"I'm sure you will, if you want to," Calla told her. "The hat gave me a choice."

"Did it really?" Ginny asked, curious. "Wait, there's a hat?"

"Yeah," Calla laughed. "Don't believe what your brothers say, you just try it on and it sorts you into your house. It said I could be in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, so I chose Ravenclaw."

"Why?" Ginny asked, wrinkling her nose. "I'd much rather be Gryffindor."

Calla shrugged, trying not to take it as an insult. "My friend Daphne had already been sorted into Ravenclaw, and I didn't want her to be alone. Plus, I didn't plan on doing reckless Gryffindor things for seven years."

With a laugh, Ginny pushed open the door to Flourish and Blotts, letting them all inside the quaint bookstore. It was just as nice as Calla remembered, with brightly coloured spines covering the floor to wall shelves. The only difference was a golden haired man at the front of the store, who appeared to have taken all the female attention.

"Calla!" Hermione's voice whispered, as she popped into view next to Ginny, dragging Padma and Parvati behind her. "It's Gilderoy Lockhart!"

Oh. Calla looked at him critically. So this was the guy who'd written all of their schoolbooks? He looked more like a doomed hippie than a serious author or dark arts fighter. "He doesn't look like much," Calla said, and Hermione's mouth dropped open.

"I think he looks wonderful," Padma said breathlessly, and Calla snorted. Alright, he was decent looking, but he still didn't strike her as able to battle a banshee. Looks could be deceiving as her godfather always said, but Calla wasn't so sure.

"To each their own," Parvati said, and she and Calla high-fives over their friends' heads.

Lockhart was saying something about his autobiography, which apparently depicted his entire career and the most glamourous and gruesome parts of it all. His words slowly trailed off as he caught sight of Harry, eyes bulging.

"Can it be?" he said, still staring at Harry, who looked quite uncomfortable. "Harry Potter."

Before Calla knew it, her brother was being dragged up to the front of the store for a most uncomfortable photograph with Lockhart, who looked overjoyed at meeting the boy who lived, yet continuing to mention his own accomplishments, as if they measured up to Harry's at all. Calla decided then that she definitely didn't like that man.

And then came the icing on the cake: "Young Harry and his friends here-" he gestured to the Weasleys and Calla's friends, completely disregarding her presence "had no idea that, when they stepped foot in Flourish and Blotts today for a copy of my autobiography, Magical Me, that they would actually be taught by me for this year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Calla tried not to groan. First Quirrelmort, now this buffoon? God, Harry would be a better Defense Agsinst the Dark Arts teacher.

A whisper of "Bloody Astoria," told Calla that Daphne had arrived, and was hovering behind her shoulder.

With a grin, Calla diverted her attention from Harry and hugged her friend, who held her close. "How was Summer with the pure bloods?" she asked, and Daphne chuckled.

"About as good as it could be. Managed not to hex the muggles yet?"

"Only just," Calla giggled, releasing Daphne. She looked tired, and still had the remnants of a scowl on her face, but seemed happier than she had been at Hogwarts during the last few months. "Gilderoy Lockhart's our new Defense teacher, apparently."

"Oh, Merlin," Daphne huffed. "Astoria adores him - it's weird, honestly. Like, sure he's attractive and he's done some cool things, but it's just... weird."

"Don't you think he's great?" Hermione asked, and Daphne snorted.

"No," she laughed. "Vote? Is Lockhart obsession legitimate or just plain weird? All those in favour of weird?"

Calla, Daphne, Parvati, and a hesitant Ginny all raised their hands. "Point proven," Parvati said, and Padma shushed her.

"I want to hear what he has to say."

"What, like it's interesting?"

"Hes done some fascinating things, Parvati."

"Whatever," Parvati laughed. "Lavender and Fay said they'd meet me here about now, so I'm going to go find them." With a quick smile at the remaining girls, Parvati disappeared into the crowds of Flourish and Blotts, and Harry was finally rid of Gilderoy Lockhart.

"He seemed like an idiot," Ron chuckled, and Calla grinned at the offense on Hermione's face. "Alright, Harry?"

"Here," Harry said to Ginny, tipping the books he'd been gifted by Lockhart into a surprised Ginny's cauldron. "I don't need them."

Ginny squeaked in response, and Daphne snorted with laughter. "What?" Harry asked, frowning at her.

"Nothing," the girls all chorused, giving a red eared Ginny a knowing look. Starstruck. It was quite cute, actually.

Just then, a nasal voice came from above them and Calla groaned. "Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" Draco Malfoy spat, and Calla rolled her eyes. How long would it be before Harry or Ron started a fight with him? "Getting your face all over the papers." He turned to Calla, and her stomach lurched. "Notice you didn't get invited."

Calla snorted. "I don't care." It was halfway true, after all.

"Don't you?" Malfoy asked, arching an eyebrow. "If I was the sister of the boy who lives, I'm sure I wouldn't like to be forgotten all the time, too."

"Sod off, Malfoy," Ron huffed before Calla could come up with a response. "Leave Calla alone."

Seemingly unable to think of another taunt for Calla, Malfoy turned his attention to Ron. "Nice seeing you in a shop, Weasley," he sneered, and Calla noticed how Harry balled his hands into fists. "Can your parents even afford to buy anything in this place?"

"Malfoy!" Ron barked, and lunged towards him, only held back by Hermione and Daphne, who were both also glaring at the platinum blond bastard.

"Leave it," Daphne said coolly. "He isn't worth your time."

Malfoy's eyes lit up. "Ah, Greengrass. See you're still hanging out with mudbloods and blood traitors. How do mum and dad think of them?"

A flicker of hurt came over Daphne's face, before she composed herself. "I don't need to talk to you," she replied, glaring down her nose in a way that only Daphne could. "Come on, let's go."

She grabbed Calla, Hermione, and Padma by the wrists and pulled them out of the shop, trying to regain her composure. "Malfoy's an arsehole," Padma growled, looking darkly over her shoulder. "We'll go back in for our things once he's gone."

They nodded, leaning against the wall of the apothecary. "I hope Harry and Ron don't go picking a fight with him," Hermione fretted, looking over her shoulder every few seconds.

"They'll be fine," Padma said, waving a dismissive hand. "Come on, I want ice cream."

xxxxx

"Strawberry, raspberry ripple, eggnog, and..." What had Daphne asked for again? "Pumpkin strudel?"

Mr Fortescue smiled as he conjured up their ice creams. "Are you all set for Hogwarts, then, Miss?" he asked.

"Just about," Calla said shyly. "My friends and I just need to get our books and things."

"I see," Me Fortescue chuckled. "Fan of that Gilderoy Lockhart?"

Calla grimaced. "Not really no."

Grinning, Mr Fortescue held out the ice creams to Calla. "One galleon and two sickles, please."

"Thank you," Calla said, handing over the money and taking their ice creams. "It was nice to meet you, Mr Fortescue!"

xxxx

Meanwhile, Ron had not taken Malfoy's comments sitting down. "You should learn to shut your mouth, Malfoy," he spat.

"Or what, Weasley?"

"Ron, relax," Harry said, biting his lip. Calla had disappeared with the other girls, and he was beginning to wish he'd gone with them. He had no desire to get into a fight with Malfoy.

"What, Potter?" Malfoy sneered. "I thought you loved having everyone's eyes on you."

"Leave him alone," Ginny warned, and Malfoy laughed before Harry could give her a thankful smile.

"Look, Potter!" he mocked. "You've got yourself a girlfriend!"

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Ron shouted, and before Harry knew what was happening he had lunged towards the blond boy, who actually looked rather scared for once.

"Ron!" Mr Weasley's voice bellowed, just as Uncle Moony shouted: "Harry!"

Harry knew they were in trouble when both men came over looking equally frustrated. "Don't go picking fights," Uncle Moony reminded Harry, who was quite put out. He hadn't even started it, and it was Ron who had tried to jump Malfoy anyway.

"Come on," Mr Weasley said, taking Ron and Ginny by the arms. "Enough of this, let's go outside."

"Well, well, Well," drawled a voice and Harry turned around to see a man who could only be Malfoy's father. "Arthur Weasley. Remus Lupin." He gave curt nods to each. "What a pleasant surprise."

He was clearly respected, as people moved out of the way they saw him, though Harry didn't really see how someone like him could be so respected. He made his way over to their group and stood with his hand of Draco's shoulder, both sneering in the same precise manner.

"Lucius," Mr Weasley said in a cold voice.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear. All those raids. I hope they're paying you overtime?" Malfoy Senior asked.

Uninvited, he reached into little Ginny's cauldron and rifled in it before takin out, rather than the glossy new Lockhart books, a battered second-hand copy of 'The Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration'. He laughed softly. "Obviously not, by the looks of this. Tell me, Arthur, what is the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if you don't even get paid well for it?"

Harry's hands bunched into fists, as did Ron's. Now Harry knew where Malfoy got his cruelty from, though it was rather a shame he'd had to grow up with a father like that. Still, he'd grown up with the Dursleys, and he knew he was nothing like Malfoy. Mr. Weasley flushed a deep shade of beetroot. "It seems we both have very different views on what disgraces the name of a wizard, Malfoy," he said, and Uncle Moony nodded

"Clearly," Lucius said, his abnormal eyes drifting to where Hermione's parents stood with Mrs Weasley, fretfully, and to dishevelled Uncle Moony. "The company you keep, Weasley. And I thought your family could sink no lower -"

He didn't even get to finish his sentence. Metal clunked as Ginny's cauldron went flying, and Uncle Mooney's eyes widened in shock. Mr. Weasley had thrown himself at Malfoy, knocking him backward into a bookshelf. Dozens of books clattered off their shelves and onto their heads, the kids being shielded by Uncle Moony while Fred and George cheered for their father. Mrs. Weasley shrieked At Mr Weasley from across the shop to stop the fight, and the crowd stampeded backward, knocking more shelves over while the frantic shop assistant was desperately trying to break everyone up.

"Alright!" Uncle Moony shouted, grabbing Mr Weasleys arm and pulling him off of Malfoy. "That's enough, settle down. We've had quite enough drama for one day.

Mr Malfoy glared at him, looking down his snooty, too pale nose. He was still holding Ginny's old Transfiguration book and thrust it at her, silver eyes full of malice.

"Here, girl - take your book. It's the best your father can give you."

Turning away from Mr Weasley, he beckoned for Malfoy to follow him out of the shop, casting a final dark look over his shoulder.

"Right," Uncle Moony said to the still rather shocked shoppers. "I suppose that's quite enough for one day. What do you say we get our things and go find the girls, alright?"

Harry nodded, slightly disheartened. He would have loved to see Malfoy and his father taken down a peg - or two, or three, or seven hundred. But, like most things, that would just have to wait.


	17. Ch16 - September 1st

September 1st

The big day arrived suddenly, time changing from August to September in no time at all. Calla was more than ready to return to Hogwarts, missing her friends. She'd seen Daphne, Parvati, Hermione and the Weasleys Of course, but she'd only exchanged a few letters with Zacharias and the other Ravenclaws in her year. Her letters from Ginny were the most frequent, as the girl seemed to be bursting with questions about Hogwarts that she didn't trust her brothers to answer honestly, and Calla couldn't wait to see her getting sorted, as the anticipation for it made up most of her letters.

Calla grinned to herself as she read the latest one, about how she couldn't wait to get into Gryffindor and become friends with the other girls, and about how Fred and George had taken the family's car out for a flight a few days ago and very nearly gotten caught by their mum as she watched from her window. It seemed she would be just as vibrant and prone to pranking as her brothers. Calla couldn't say that was a bad thing.

"Come on, Calla!" Harry shouted, and she stuffed her letters into her trunk. "We'll be late!"

She chuckled and stroked Moony's feathers, earning a hoot from the owl. Locking the cage door, she took the owl in one hand and her trunk in the other, ignoring the end of a Ravenclaw scarf that hung out the edge.

"Got everything?" Uncle Moony asked as they stood by the door, bouncing in anticipation.

"Checked and double checked," Harry assured him with a grin. "Can we go now?"

"Of course," Uncle Moony said, eyes glimmering with mirth. "Ready for some side-along apparition?"

Both twins held back groans as their stomachs twisted and they were swept away, landing in King's Cross not a moment later. "That was horrible," Harry said, grimacing.

"It's better than the last time, at least," Calla said, though she agreed it was a pretty disgusting feeling.

She glanced up at the station clock, seeing that it was twenty to eleven already. "We should try and get good seats on the train," Calla told her brother, making her way towards the barrier between platforms nine and ten.

"Come on!" she called over her shoulder to Harry, who was far behind her and Uncle Moony.

"I want to wait on the Weasleys!" Harry shouted back at her, and she rolled her eyes.

"And what if they're already on the platform?" she questioned. "Come on, Harry, I want to get a good compartment for us."

"I'm waiting," Harry said, sulking, and Calla exchanged an exasperated glance with Uncle Moony, who just chuckled.

"Suit yourself," she told him, turning back towards the barrier. "I'm going."

Grinning, Calla rushed through the barrier with her trunk and cage in hand. It felt different than the last time, like she was stuck in jelly as she tried to pass through the brick wall, but she came out the other end fine, albeit a little dazed. Uncle Moony appeared a moment later, sighing. "Harry assures me that he can wait on his own for the Weasleys," he said, and Calla rolled her eyes. Her brother was too stubborn for his own good sometimes, she thought. "I'll help you onto the train with your things, alright?"

"Thank you, Uncle Moony," Calla said with a smile, heaving her trunk up the steps onto the Hogwarts Express. It was just as gorgeous as she remembered, mahogany panels along by the windows, frosted glass that changed and made different shapes every time she looked.

"Have fun, Calla," Uncle Moony said, and Calla checked her watch anxiously. It was five to eleven now, and she couldn't see Harry or any of the red headed Weasleys. "I'm sure they'll be through in a moment."

"Yeah," Calla said, and gave Uncle Moony a quick hug. "I'm going to find the other girls, I'll send you a letter once I get to my dormitory, okay?"

"Enjoy the train ride," Uncle Moony grinned, and she left to find her friends, wherever they were.

After looking in what seemed like every compartment on the train, Calla spotted Daphne, Padma, and Hermione sitting in a large compartment, with Parvati,

Lavender Brown, and Daphne's little sister Astoria, laughing about something.

"Hey, guys," Calla greeted, lifting her trunk up onto the rack and setting Moony down. It was two minutes to eleven. "Can you see Harry or Ron out there? He was waiting on the Weasleys."

"No gingers out there," Lavender said, wrinkling her nose. "Oh, wait! I can see the twins!"

Calla peered our the window, seeing six Weasleys rushing towards the train, laden with school trunks which they heaved up onto the train together, Molly Weasley fussing over a reluctant Ginny. But where were Harry and Ron?

It seemed Ginny leapt onto the train just in time, as Calla felt the train jolt and she fell backwards, almost squashing Hermione. "Those idiots," she muttered. "They've missed the train."

"You're kidding!" Parvati laughed, finding the situation far funnier than Calla was.

"Starting the year off in style?" Daphne asked. "Maybe they've found their own way to get there."

Calla groaned, pressing her face into her palms. "The flying car." She looked up and leapt out into the hallway. "Fred and George Weasley!" The twins both turned around with Ginny, looking startled. "Come over here now!"

xxxx

"We can't have missed the train!" Harry cried, as the clock chimed eleven. He banged on the barrier, but it was completely blocked over. "Why couldn't we get through?"

"Well, I don't know," Ron said, frustrated. "It's completely sealed." A fearful look overcame his face. "What if mum and dad can't get out?"

"They can apparente at least," Harry said, thinking of Uncle Moony. "How are we meant to get to Hogwarts?"

Ron groaned, leaning against the barrier. "What if we've been kicked out?" he asked nervously. "I don't think Dumbledore likes us as much after what happened with Quirrel."

"If anyone got kicked out, it was Calla," Harry said in bitterness, then immediately regretted his words when Ron looked at him in confusion.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "He gave her, what, fifty points last year? You only got twenty."

"She failed two of her exams," Harry explained with a sigh as Ron's eyes widened. "But you can't tell anyone, and don't let her know that I told you or she'll have my head."

"I won't, I swear," Ron said quickly. "Which subjects was it?"

"Ron!" Harry hissed, and he looked down sheepishly.

"Sorry." There was a moment of awkward silence between them before Ron gasped and looked up. "I've got it!" he cried, eyes gleaming

"Got what?"

"We have a flying car!" Ron shouted, grabbing Harry's wrist. "Come on, it's just outside."

A flying car? It was perfect, Harry thought. He rushed outside with Ron, who dragged him over to an old Ford Anglia, grinning in elation.

"This is great!" Harry announced, putting his trunk in the backseat and clambering into the front with Ron. He let Hedwig out of her cage and she hooted. "Stay close, girl," he told her, as Ron revved up the motor.

"Let's go!" he cried, and the car began to slowly levitate, then faster and faster and higher and higher until they were soaring over London and King's Cross was a speck below them.

Calla didn't know what she was missing out on, Harry thought as he leaned back against the passenger seat. They'd go down in history for this spectacular entrance.

xxxx

The Weasleys found the situation a lot more hilarious than Calla did. "That's brilliant!" Fred cried, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "Mum's going to go mental!"

"If she sends him a howler I think I'll cry of happiness!" George declared, face scrunched up in laughter.

"What if they get hurt?" Calla protested. "Then you'll get in trouble for not trying to help!"

That did seem to dampen the twins' spirits, and Ginny's face fell entirely. "What can we do them?" she asked.

"I'm sending a letter to Harry, hopefully Moony can track him and get him to be sensible. You're going to get Percy's owl and send a letter to your parents being the responsible brothers that you are."

Fred wrinkled his nose. "That doesn't really sound like us."

"Yeah, no offense, Calla, but we have a reputation to uphold."

"Fine," She said. "I'll let Percy know you were willing to let Ron and Harry get hurt for your reputation. He won't shut up about it for months, I'm sure."

"Alright!" George cried. "We'll do it, okay? You... go and do whatever you want to do. Here." He shoved Ginny towards Calla, and she glared at him. "She needs to make friends."

The youngest Weasley stuck out her tongue at her brothers who walked away, and then turned to Calla. "Brothers are stupid," she said matter-of-fact ly, walking down the way Calla had come. "But you already knew that."

"I sure do."

Calla scrawled out a hasty letter to Harry before feeding Moony an owl treat and sending her away, hoping that she would find Harry. Owls had a certain talent for directions, and they wouldn't be far from the train by now anyway, would they? Parvati and Lavender had vacated the compartment in search of the other Gryffindor boys, no doubt to tell them about Harry and Ron's escapades, but Astoria Greengrass seemed reluctant to leave her sister's side. Calla thought it was sweet, but Daphne kept sending her glared every time she got involved in their conversation.

Eventually Astoria got bored of trying to talk to her sister and their friends, instead just talking to Ginny. Much to Calla's surprise, they got on like a house on fire, chatting away about how annoying their families were, and what classes they were most looking forward to at Hogwarts, and Astoria got Ginny to shriek with laughter when she told a joke about her Uncle Hector and his affinity for badly transfiguring his face to look like a cat's.

It wasn't until the trolley witch had already come back that Fred and George popped in to say that they'd gotten a reply from their mother, furious with Ron as expected, saying that she'd informed Professor McGonagall and that she and her husband were on their way up to the school the second they sent the letter. The twins couldn't wait to see Ron's face when their plan failed spectacularly, of course, and Calla just laughed while Hermione sighed about their stupidity. They'd get what they were due.

xxxx

"Is that Moony?" Harry wondered aloud, turning to look out the window. He and Ron had been driving for hours now, and their arrival was looking less and less exciting. They'd probably be exhausted by the time they arrived.

"Calla's owl?" Ron asked, peering over him. "You're right."

"She's going to kill me, isn't she?" Harry asked, putting his head in his hands. Flying the car had seemed like a good idea at the time, but he knew that Calla would never have agreed to fly with them if she'd been blocked from going through.

"Might as well find out now," Ron said grimly, turning the car slightly so that it met Moony, who squawked rudely in Harry's face, no doubt echoing Calla's sentiments.

He took the letter form the glaring bird, and opened it shakily. "At least it's not a Howler," Ron said, as he began to read.

 _To Harry James Potter, i_ t read. Clearly she was in a bad mood with him.

 _I'm not entirely sure why you thought it would be a good idea to miss the train, but you did. I'm assuming that you took the Weasleys' flying car that Ginny told me about, in which case I really hope one of you knows how to drive that thing or you might as well turn it off and dive towards a river anyway. (Please don't actually do that, annoyed as I am I don't want you to get stuck in a river in the borders.) I've gotten the twins to write to Mrs Weasley - Ron groaned at that - and she's written to Hogwarts so that they'll be waiting for you and won't be too worried about where the heck you disappeared off to._

 _Anyway. We're all very annoyed with you on the train - by which I mean me, Ginny, Daphne, Hermione, Padma, and Daphne's little sister Astoria - so please don't go flying a car to school again, if you are in the car, because it's stupid. And dangerous, and you're probably going to get Gryffindor into minus house points by the time you get there. I'll see you at Hogwarts, if you don't get yourselves expelled._

 _From your incredibly annoyed sister,_

 _Calla Potter_

"She's annoyed," Harry sighed, scrunching the letter up, ignoring Moony's indignant squawk. "I'm not writing back to her, we'll see her once we get to school anyway."

"Mhmm." Ron's stomach grumbled. "I just want to get to the feast already. I'm starving, and this invisibility booster's doing my head in."

Harry couldn't be bothered dignifying that with a response.

xxxx

"Come on, Calla, I want to get a decent carriage!" Daphne insisted, pulling her away from the compartment's open window.

"Harry hasn't sent me a reply yet," Calla fretted, and Daphne rolled her eyes.

"You'll see him soon enough," Hermione assured her, though she looked worried too. "Let's just get going, right?"

"Bye, Guys!" Ginny and Astoria called over their shoulders, rushing down to see Hagrid.

Both girls had quietened down as they'd approached the station, no doubt nervous about their sortings. Daphne said she was almost certain Tori would be in Slytherin, but Calla thought Ginny was a sure Gryffindor, which would definitely cause some complications for them.

The girls leapt into an empty carriage just ahead of some older Hufflepuffs, who grumbled and walked away. Calla tugged down her left sleeve, hiding the blackened skin from her time in the potions room, hoping nobody had spotted it. She still needed to find her map, she realised with a start. Maybe Dumbledore had picked it up?

"Those two had better be arriving soon," Padma said, anxiously looking at the darkening sky. "Or they won't be able to find their way."

"Oh, don't say that, Padma," Calla sighed. Annoyed as she was with her brother and Ron, she didn't want to see either of them hurt.

"Let's not worry, alright?" Daphne said, sighing. "I just want my dinner."

But as they traipsed into the Great Hall, weary from travelling all day, Calla could have sworn she saw a blue car crash into a tree. "For god's sake."


	18. Ch17 - Return to Hogwarts

September 1st

The first thing Calla noticed when she entered the Great Hall was that it was far emptier than it had been when she walked in last year. Of course, the first years hadn't been Sorted yet, so their absence was all too obvious, but there was something else that nagged at the back of her head. She noticed it after a few moments, when her gaze drifted up to the staff table: Snape wasn't there.

She didn't need Daphne's helpful, "They're really in for it now," to deduce why Snape wasn't there. Obviously, he'd decided that he wanted to meet Harry and Ron when they got out of that god forsaken flying car, and Calla tried not to groan at the realisation.

Yes, she thought. They really were in for it now.

Calla could hardly concentrate on the sorting, only clapping when the hat called "Ravenclaw!" every so often, and when she saw Ginny's familiar flaming hair rush over to the Gryffindor table. She hadn't taken much note of the new Ravenclaws, but for a dreamy looking blonde girl, and a sour faced boy with dark hair, who looked as though he would rather be anywhere but Ravenclaw at that moment in time. Of course, Calla would much rather know what the heck was happening to her brother than be sat in the Great Hall with Lisa Turpin continuously glaring at her for reasons she couldn't be bothered trying to work out right now, so she couldn't blame him.

The feast passed in a blur of mundane conversation, chatter about the holidays and new Quidditch brooms, chatter Calla really didn't care that much about. She only answered when a question was posed to her, and even then Lisa kept telling her to speak up, but she couldn't help if she was preoccupied with concern over her brother. What if he got expelled? What if he'd been hurt? What if, what if, what if?

"Miss Potter," a voice squeaked from behind her and Calla jumped, turning around to see Professor Flitwick staring up at her. She swallowed her chicken and smiled at him.

"Hello, Professor Flitwick," she said pleasantly. "Did you enjoy your holidays?"

"Yes, I did," he beamed. "Very much so. I have something for you, entrusted to me by Professor Dumbledore. There's some rather tricky charmwork on it, if my deductions are correct, but I couldn't figure out what to say to open it." He winked at her and produced the Marauder's Map, making Calla's chest flood with relief. "I commend you."

"Thank you, Professor," Calla said, taking the map. "But I'm afraid it wasn't my charms work that did it. It's a - an old family heirloom."

"I see," Flitwick said, raising his eyebrows. "In that case, let us hope that you will continue your family's excellent charms work, yes?"

"Absolutely, Professor," Calla grinned, as he smiled at her before returning to the staff table.

"Come on, Calla," Padma said, elbowing her sharply in the side. She realised with a jolt that the feast was almost over, and everyone was getting up to go to their dormitories. Glancing over to the Gryffindor table, she noticed that Hermione was sitting with Neville, and there was no Harry or Ron in sight. Brilliant, she thought, standing up and linking arms with Parma and Daphne. The year couldn't have gotten off to a better start, could it?

September 2nd

Calla had slept only fitfully, dreams slipping every so often into nightmares. Harry, mangled in the wreckage of the flying car. Her, crawling in flames along the floor of the potions room last year. Harry, with a broken arm and sobbing after a Quidditch accident. Ron, screaming in pain stuck in a smoking car.

She shuddered awake, lurching upwards in the darkness. The sun had barely risen, and she shivered as she placed her bare feet down on the freezing cold floor. There was no point in trying to get back to sleep now, she decided, and took out her map.

Getting it back was perhaps the only truly decent thing that had happened since she'd left for the Hogwarts Express, but she realised with a start that now she could know for definite if Harry was okay.

Sure enough, when she got the map open her eyes were drawn to Harry and Ron's names, showing them sound asleep in their dorm in Gryffindor Tower. She smiled to herself, pushing up to her feet. The library had been one of her favourite places to visit last year, even if most of her visits revolved around foiling plots to restore dark wizards to their former reign of terror, but more than that, it was the best place to begin her year. She'd vowed that she would be a better student this year, and she fully intended to keep that vow.

There was no one out of their towers at this time, only Filch on the seventh floor and Professor Sprout pottering about in the greenhouses. Smiling to herself, Calla took a few moments to get herself washed and ready for the day before she left, making her way out of Ravenclaw Tower. A prefect with glasses sat dozing in one of the armchairs, and Calla tiptoed past her, just in case she awoke.

The halls were deserted, and indeed only Madam Pince occupied the library when Calla entered. She raised her eyebrows but said nothing - technically, it was no longer night, so she wasn't breaking any of the school rules.

Her two Poor grades had been in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration, so Calla decided those were the subjects she would begin improving on. "Could you possibly direct me towards the Transfiguration section, please, Miss?" Calla asked Madam Pince, whose eyes narrowed behindbher glasses.

"Of course," she said slowly, leading Calla over to the far right of the library. "Second year material is this shelf here."

"Thank you," Calla said, smiling.

While she had all of her usual textbooks, there were still ones that went into more detail on how to cast spells, and how to propel more power into her casting. Calla remembered that, last year, Zach had told her a witch named Dervina Twicks was good at explaining precisely how to gather the energies required for casting spells, and she was pleased to find she had tomes on both Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts.

After roughly half an hour of reading, however, Calla found she was taking in very little about how spells actually worked. Whether it was the early morning or the fact that the writing was so small the words kept jumping around the page, Calla didn't know, but she eventually came to the conclusion that she'd be better off just returning to her dorm and getting ready for breakfast.

"Morning," Daphne called when Calla walked in, books tucked under her arm. "Don't tell me you've been in the library?"

"I have," Calla laughed, setting the books on her bed.

"So much for reversing house stereotypes," Padma said with a giggle, as Lisa hunted frantically in her bag for something.

"You alright, Lisa?" Calla asked, and she looked up with a pout.

"No," she snapped, hands on her hips. "I can't find my hairbrush."

"You can borrow mine," Padma offered, but Lisa shook her head.

"I don't like borrowing other people's things," she said with a sniff. "It's unhygienic."

Padma shrugged, and she exchanged a pitying look with Calla. "Suit yourself. Come on, Calla, Daphne. I don't know about either of you, but I'm starving."

"I've got to go find that brother of mine, too," Calla added, hand moving to the Maruader's Map tucked away in her brown satchel. "And tell him what an idiot everyone thinks he is after the stunt he pulled yesterday."

Across the dorm, Lisa chuckled. "I, personally, thought it was brilliant."

"Well, I think he's lucky not to have been expelled," Calla grumbled. Heavens knew, if it had been almost any other second year, they would have been on trial for what they did - not that she in any way wanted that fate for her brother. "Or broken his neck."

"You don't have to be so uptight about it," Lisa laughed, and Calla narrowed her eyes. "Lighten up, Potter."

"Let's go," Padma said, with a wary glance at Daphne, who was currently glaring at Lisa as though she would take great pleasure in slapping her until she couldn't feel the muscles in her face.

"She's a cow," Daphne said the second they closed the dorm door, beginning their descent into the common room.

"She's not all bad," Calla reasoned, though she too was unable to keep her dislike for the girl out of her voice. "She's just annoying sometimes. I don't think she ever means to be mean or rude - it kind of just slips out."

"She's still a cow."

"Stop talking about cows and start talking about lions," Padma said, with a nod in the direction of her sister and Lavender Brown, who were coming down the stairs towards them. "They'll know what's up with Harry and Ron, as much as Hermione does."

The trio rushed to the two girls, who were giggling as they greeted them. "Have you seen Harry and Ron?" Calla asked, and Lavender shook her head with a giggle.

"No, but Hermione says she's going to kill them for being such idiots."

Calla couldn't quite contest that sentiment. "Fair enough. Are they in the tower?"

"Seamus said they're all going down together," Parvati informed Calla with a smile, and placed her hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Calla. As far as any of us know, they're fine and none of them are getting expelled. Hermione says that she doubts McGonagall will give them too bad of a punishment, even though they can't exactly give a great explanation."

"He had better give me a brilliant explanation," Calla grumbled, to the chuckles of her friends. She looked up at the portrait of the Fat Lady as it swung open, revealing five Gryffindor boys and a loudly complaining Hermione. Her eyes fastened into firm steel. "Harry James Potter!" she shrieked up the stairs, and he jumped noticeably, staring at her.

"Hi, Cal!" he called cheerfully, only further boiling Calla's blood. "How are you?"

"I'm absolutely furious!" she shouted back at him. Much to Daphne's delight, she began her ascent storming up the stairs to the group of six, where both Harry and Ron looked completely bewildered by her anger. "You stole a car!"

"We couldn't get through to the platform," Harry whined, as Calla withdrew her hand and pressed it to his chest. She couldn't exactly do much with it, but his eyes still widened at the action.

"And clearly you also couldn't muster up any common sense to wait for Uncle Moony and the Weasleys to go back through and find you!"

"We panicked!"

"There's a difference between panicking and being an idiot," Calla snapped. Ron lay a hand on her arm and she shrugged him off. "What?"

"Cool it, Calla," he told her, smile softer than she would have liked.

"No," she said. "And this is your fault too, Ronald Weasley, so don't think you're getting off scot-free either. Now, which one suggested taking the car?" Ron looked sheepishly at the floor and Harry's eyes flickered towards him momentarily. "Exactly. You both could have gotten yourselves killed, and quite frankly it would have been nowhere near worth it just to what? Make an entrance? Have a laugh? Didn't you even think of the consequences?"

"Not really, no," Harry admitted. "We just... thought it was the easiest option." He winced, laying a hand on her shoulder and pushing her wand down to her side. "I didn't mean to upset you, Cal."

She exhaled. "I know that," Calla huffed, wrapping her arms around Harry. "But you bloody terrified me, no one knew where you were. What if you'd gotten hurt, Harry?"

"I'm sorry," he whispered, hugging her back. "But we are both fine. We've only got a couple detentions for it, so it's not like anything bad's happening to us because of it."

Quite frankly, Calla could have figured that out for herself, but she didn't see the sense in pointing that fact out. "I know," she told him, stepping away and giving Ron a half smile. "Come on, let's get to breakfast. You've probably heard everything else I want to say from Hermione by now, anyway."

"That is probably true," Hermione added, grinning as the group started down the stairs to the Great Hall. "I, for one, am still furious."

"Rightly so."

Chatter rose around them the second Calla entered the Great Hall, grinning at the atmosphere. Hardly anyone stared at them now the way they did when they first arrived last year, except for a handful of excited first years. "I'll see you in class," Calla told Harry, giving him a quick hug before going on her way with Padma and Daphne.

"I think you scared the pants off of Ron, by the way," Padma told Calla, giggling.

"Padma, I am probably the least intimidating person in this entire school."

"Not when you're scolding someone like you're their mother," Daphne snorted. "Speaking of which." She pointed to the Gryffindor table, and it took Calla a moment to realise that there was an owl headed straight for Ron, clutching a red envelope in its clutches.

"Ron's got a Howler," Padma gasped, clutching Calla's arm.

"And That is?"

"You'll see," Daphne assured her, gleefully. "Oi, Weasley!" she shouted over the din, as Ron began to turn pink. "See you've got a Howler!"

"Shut up, Greengrass!" Ron called back, though he was now going quite white. He whispered something to Harry, who immediately leaned away and gave Calla a rather scared glance.

Smoke was beginning to rise from the envelope, as the students watched with bated breath to see what happened. Ron watched on in horror as the Howler finally exploded, and Molly Weasley's voice rang out.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley!" she shrieked, and the entire Gryffindor table cringed. "How dare you steal that car? I am absolutely disgusted! Your father is facing an enquiry at work, and it is entirely your fault!" Calla shot Ron a sympathetic glance across the hall, one which he did not seem to recognise, ear tips reddening. "If you put another toe out of line, we'll bring you straight back home!" Ron groaned and lay his head down on the table. "And Ginny, dear," the Howler continued, turning on the youngest Weasley, just as embarrassed as Ron, "congratulations on making Gryffindor. Your father and I are so proud."

With that, the envelope blew a raspberry at Ron and exploded into red confetti, raining over the disgruntled Weasley. Daphne snorted from beside Calla, reaching for a slice of toast and eying Ron with a teasing smirk. "He's so never going to live that down," she declared, as Padma giggled alongside her. Calla fixed her eyes on Harry, who was doing an awful job at trying to comfort Ron.

"We should see if he's alright," Calla said, more to Padma than Daphne. The latter still appeared to be in stitches over Ron's humiliation. "Hermione looks like she agrees with the Howler, and my brother's rubbish at comforting people."

"He'll be fine," Daphne insisted, waving a hand in the air. "Besides, Flitwick looks like he's making a beeline for us."

Indeed he was, Calla noticed, looking up. The short wizard was skipping in joy along the aisle in the Great Hall, clutching rolls of parchment that could be nothing other than their timetables for the year ahead. The thought perked Calla up with almost immediate effect, thoughts of the walk down to Potions to see Hufflepuff, and of the long evening treks to the Astronomy Tower.

She just hoped her second year at Hogwarts wouldn't be as dramatic as the first.


	19. Ch18 - Lockhart and Potter

September 2nd

It had taken Calla all of five minutes during Lockhart's first lesson to deduce that he was the worst Ravenclaw ever to Ravenclaw. And considering that Lacey Fairbairn in fourth year had somehow managed to answer a riddle so badly the common room had constructed its own sentient barrier to keep her out until Flitwick charmed it to stop being annoying, that was saying something.

Despite not liking him at first, Calla at least wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, Hermione seemed to think he was quite wonderful, and even if her judgement could be flawed, Calla figured she ought to attempt to understand her friend's point of view. It was a struggle.

"I think today we'll start the lesson off with a pop quiz," Lockhart announced, and Calla groaned. It was better than having to do any practical work, yes, but considering her dismal marks last year, a pop quiz was not going to be fun.

Wow, she realised, looking at Lisa and Padma's excited exchanges to Terry. Maybe she was also set on track to be the worst Ravenclaw ever to Ravenclaw. "On me," Lockhart finished, and Calla's head snapped up. She'd read all his textbooks, and could honestly say there was more about him than there was any banshee, werewolf, or vampire. "Now, it's just a short quiz..."

Calla zones out as the parchment was handed to everyone, a seemingly endless list of questions before her. Their subject matter ranged from Lockart's favourite colour to his greatest achievements, and it made her a little nauseous. She was sure Harry wouldn't be able to restrain himself from laughing when he took this class.

"Professor," Lisa called to Lockhart before he quiz started. He turned around, seeming confused as to who the professor was before he realised it was him. "You haven't registered us."

Calla was torn between dreading the inevitable 'Miss Potter, it's an honour' and not being able to contain her excitement at the concept of Lockhart realising he'd missed her in Diagonal Alley.

Lockhart blanched, and then put on an entirely fake looking smile. "Of course! Just testing you! Now..." he fumbled about in his desk, before withdrawing a scroll of parchment. "This is your register! Right, second year Slytherin and second year Ravenclaw, altogether, how wonderful."

He started off down the list, before his eyes bulged right after Padma. Here it was. "Calla Potter?" he choked out, and she meekly put her hand up.

"Present, sir," she said, making her eyes as wide as possible. "Might I say it was great to see you in Diagon Alley when you were with my brother."

Daphne snorted with laughter, and Calla could have sworn she saw Pansy Parkinson smirk as Lockhart tried to cover up his blunder with a smile and a toss of too gold hair. "Yes, yes," he said, grinning. "Quite."

He was a mess for the rest of the register, and though Calla felt sort of bad for him - it was his first day - she couldn't help but find it amusing. Why shouldn't she manipulate everyone forgetting about her existence into something comedic?

Lockhart waved hand to commence the quiz, which Calla decided she had better try to do well on. It was probably the only test she'd really do well in in Defense Against the Dark Arts all year.

She knew Lovkhart's favourite colour was lilac, and that his greatest achievement was winning Witch Weekly's Best Smile Award, and seeing as most of the questions were in the same vein of vanity, it was a breeze. Lockhart was rather predictable.

When Lockhart finished grading the papers, Calla wasn't much surprised that she got a mention. "And the delightful Calla Potter," he begin, with more grandeur than would ever be necessary, "has managed to do exceptionally well, knowing that I do utterly adore the colour lilac." Malfoy whistled and Calla stuck out her tongue at him. "I think we could all be taking a leaf out of Miss Potter's book. I see a certain Draco Malfoy has been grievously mistaken in believing my greatest achievement is being your teacher, and there are some answers from this batch I really don't think should be said out loud."

Calla reckoned most of the answers shouldn't be said out loud. Lockhart didn't do much for the last few minutes of the lesson, saying something about how their next one would be after Harry's class, and they'd be studying Cornish Pixies, which Anthony laughed at. In fact, he looked rather out of his comfort zone, not used to not being adored by everyone, Calla supposed.

It occurred to her, then, as everyone else began to pack up their bags, that she needed a better mark in Defense this year than last, and Lockhart was a rubbish teacher, but also very easily swayed by praise. She grinned to herself when the class was dismissed, waving Padma and Daphne on as she went up to greet Lockhart.

"Hello, Professor," she said in the most innocent tone she could manage. She curled a bit of her hair and positively skipped on the spot, widening her eyes. The picture of cuteness. "I'd just like to say thank you immensely for that lesson, I think it was really nice that you wanted to introduce yourself to the class properly, a lot of teachers don't do that. I think your books are marvellous, too."

"Really?" Lockhart asked, looking a bit bewildered before he drew himself up, beaming. "Well, of course. I'm not on Flourish and Blotts' Bestseller List for nothing am I?"

Calla giggled, shaking her head. "I suppose not." She shrugged, with a light smile. "Anyway, I ought to get going to my next class, but I just wanted to let you know I really enjoyed the lesson, and I can't wait for the next one!"

She decided that was enough of sucking up to Lockhart she could manage that day, and with an exchange of smiles, she turned and skipped out of the door, bag bouncing on her shoulder. "What was that about?" Daphne asked as she left, the three girls falling into step together.

"Just wanted to let our dear Defense teacher know he much I utterly adore his textbooks and his lessons," Calla shrugged. "It's only nice."

Padma gasped. "Calla!" she scolded. "We all know what you think of him, you've made it very clear on the train! It's not good to act like that."

"He needed a confidence boost though, didn't he?" Daphne pointed out, echoing Calla's unsaid words. "Calla's pretty much a saint, isn't she? Saint Potter."

"I'm fairly certain that's Malfoy's name for Harry," Calla giggled.

"He means it sarcastically."

"And you don't?" Calla snorted.

Daphne conceded that, smirking. "You're Just sucking up for house points, aren't you?"

"And good grades," Calla added, mocking offends. "And a clear conscience. What do you take me for, Daphne?"

"A saint," Padma quipped, causing the girls to all burst into laughter again as they skipped through the corridors, towards Transfiguration class.

"Morning," Calla chirped, sliding into a seat beside Harry, which everyone had had the good sense to leave empty for her. She was glad: she wanted to talk to Harry. "You okay?"

"No," Harry muttered. "I ended up late to Herbology because Lockhart kept trying to talk to me, and he's a pompous git."

Calla snorted. "That explains why he was late for our class then."

"You had him as teacher?" Harry asked, eyes wide. "Tell me, is he as awful as we thought he'd be?"

"Worse," Calla told him, groaning and cringing as she recounted the events.

"Do you think he thinks you were being serious?" Harry asked in response to her telling him about her after class conversation.

"Probably," Calla laughed. "I mean, I guess I feel a bit bad because no one was exactly nice to him, but he's annoying."

"Fair enough." Harry shrugged and was about to add something before McGonagall clapped her hands, to start the lesson.

Calla stilled herself, knowing she had to focus in this class perhaps more than any other if she was to improve on last year's results. And with that, she blocked out the rest of the world, and paid Professor McGonagall her rapt attention.

xxxx

They never did get to deal with Cornish Pixies. Apparently there had been an incident with Harry's class, and thus no one had done any practical work with Lockhart, simply reading from his textbooks and commenting on anything from his 'luscious golden locks' to his 'dazzling, award winning smile'.

It was a trying time.

xxxx

September 10th

Zacharias Smith, bless his soul, was a natural at Transfiguration, and had offered Calla his services in exchange for Harry's Guinevere chocolate frog card. She was still working on that one, but Calla was certain she'd be able to convince her brother to her cause any day now.

The library was quiet while she and Zach studied, ahead of the upcoming Transfiguration test Calla had asked Professor McGonagall to let her sit, to see how far she'd come and what she needed to improve on. Although she was still behind in Defense, the fact that Lockhart was an awful teacher meant everyone was behind in that subject, and so for the meantime, Calla wasn't bothered how she performed in that class.

"Calla?" Zach's voice interrupted her reading about turning mice into pincushions, and she glanced up, lips forming a slight smile.

"Yeah," she replied, eyes drifting along the bookshelves. "What's up?"

He frowned, biting his lip. He was nervous about something, if Calla knew anything about body language, but as to what it was, she had no true idea. "Professor Snape likes you, right?"

She snorted. "He doesn't blatantly despise me, if that's what you mean."

"Right." Zach squeezes his eyes shut, as though cringing away from a thought. "You're really good at Potions aren't you?"

"I'm not really good at any thing magic-" Calla began, but he cut her off.

"But you are at Potions and Charms." She shrugged. It was kind of difficult to argue against, really. "Snape hates me. I don't know why, but he does, and I guess I'm not very good at Potions anyway."

"Harry's the same."

"I know," Zach agreed, and Calla arches an eyebrow. "Okay, hes your brother and I'm probably not allowed to speak about him the same way you speak about him, but Snape does seem to hate him. And he's rubbish at Potions. I blame Weasley."

"Ron," Calla corrected. Her brow dressed as she stood up straighter, slamming her textbook shut. Madam Prince glared And shushed her, and Calla tried not to wither. It was a book, for goodness' sake. "And What are you getting at anyway?"

"I want to know your secret," Zacharias said. "How you got Snape to, you know, not hate you."

"Oh." Calla laughed. Truth be told, she wasn't sure how she'd managed it. He might still hate her, but just was better at covering it up than he used to be. "I'm nice to him, I guess. Everyone else hates him, which probably doesn't help with the whole him hating every student who isn't Draco Malfoy situation. I'm a suck up, basically." After a few conversations with Daphne, Padma, and Hermione, she'd decided to embrace it. "If I'm nice to him, he doesn't have as much of an excuse to be a horrible person to me. I think being decent at Potions might factor, but I can help you with that if you want."

"Really?" Zacharias looked surprised, but Calla wasn't sure why.

"Of course," she chuckled. "You're my friend, and besides, you're helping me with Transfiguration. I might as well try to repay you, right?"

"I guess." Zach looked up at Calla and smiled broadly, eyes sparkling with excitement. "Thanks, Calla." He smirked. "I am still getting Harry's Guinevere card though, right?"

"Any day now," Calla assured him with a laugh. "If you can explain to me how to get rid of the whiskers."

"My pleasure." They grinned at one another, laughing, and a warmth settled over Hogwarts.


	20. Ch19 - Days in the Sun

September 13th

Calla was not a morning person. She was especially not a morning person on weekends. She was especially, especially not a morning person when she was awoken at five in the morning by Hedwig pecking at her window with a note from Harry saying she was supposed to go and watch the Gryffindor Quidditch Team practice.

"Thanks, girl," she groaned at Hedwig, pressing an owl treat into her mouth and setting Harry's note down. "Say hello to the other owls for me."

Hedwig gave a hoot and dove away out the window,

Leaving Calla yawning by her bed. She got washed and dressed only half awake, and brushed her teeth, reckoning she had at least three hours until breakfast even started. Brilliant.

She turned to glance at Daphne and Padma, both of whom were still snoring quite contentedly, and felt a twinge of jealousy. She loved her brother, she did, but she also loved her bed. She scribbled a quick note to them to explain why she was up at such an ungodly hour of the day.

Stifling another yawn, Calla shouldered her bag and a sketchbook, heading out to the Quidditch Pitch. As expected, no one else was out in the corridors at this time. Even Mrs Norris was nowhere to be seen, probably curled up happy in a catbed, cuddling into the warmth Calla already missed.

"You better practice brilliantly," Calla told Harry when she found him, bleary eyed. "I need my sleep, Harry."

"So do I," Harry agreed, gesturing to the Gryffindor Captain. "Wood, however, thinks this is an acceptable time to get up. Which it isn't."

"Yay for Wood."

"Is that sarcasm I detect?" Fred asked, leaning down to ruffle Calla's hair. She gave him an unamused glare, not in the mood for her hair to be tampered with at this time in the morning. "You got up on the wrong side of the bed?"

"I didn't intend to get up on any side of the bed at this time in the morning."

George snorted with laughter. "My sentiments exactly."

"Does Wood not want you guys awake to play Quiddith or something?" Calla asked, confused as to why in the world anyone would think it a good idea to get seven sleep deprived kids on brooms fifty feet in the freezing cold air when the sun was only just starting to rise. Seriously, it was a recipe for disaster. "Or is his master Quidditch plan just for everyone to fall to their deaths and you can't lose the cup to Ravenclaw?"

"Of!" Wood called, just noticing her. "You're not from Gryffindor!"

Okay, that clearly wasn't something he was happy about. "No," Calla told him. "Harry invited me."

"Potter!" Wood shouted, making both twins flinch. "You can't have our enemies sitting in on our practices! This could compromise our techniques, Ravenclaw will know what to expect from us and we'll have to totally revamp our plans for this year!"

"It's okay," Harry told Wood. "Calla doesn't know anything about Quidditch plays anyway."

Calla glared at Harry, but to be fair, he wasn't wrong. "I do," piped up a voice beside her, and Calla turned startled to see Faphne grinning, next to Padma. "But don't worry about it, I'll probably fall asleep in the next ten minutes anyway."

"You two were asleep," Calla hissed. "Savour that."

Padma shrugged. "Daphne wanted to come watch, and we were woken up when you left anyway. Lisa was furious, but I think she fell back asleep in about ten seconds anyway, so I wouldn't worry about that."

"Oh." Calla giggled. "Well, I guess it's nice of you to come. Harry has five people for moral support now."

She gestured to where Ron and Hermione say in the stands, both of them waving to their friends. There was also another Gryffindor in the stands. He looked like he was a first year, and judging by what Harry had told Calla about an over enthusiastic muggleborn with a camera, he was probably Colin Creevey. Harry found him infuriating, considering how he seemed to follow him everywhere, but honestly Calla thought it rather adorable.

"Right," Wood huffed. "Well, I'll permit the Gryffindor to stay, and Harry's sister, but you two have to go, I'm sorry. I can't have our plays leaked to the other houses."

Daphne rolled here eyes. "Really, Wood, I think you'd better be more concerned with them than us."

Wood frowned, just as Calla saw the haze of emerald Quidditch robes cross the pitch towards their cluster. Brilliant, she thought. The Slytherins just had to show up right now, didn't they?

He turned and let out a loud groan, immediately going to shout at the Slytherin team, in true Gryffindor fashion. The rest of his team followed him in a rush, Calla getting swept up between Harry and Fred.

"Who's your new Seeker?" Wood asked just as Calla came within earshot, wishing she'd just stayed in bed. She didn't need any more snake-lion drama in her life than she already had.

At some point, Hermione and Ron had run down to join them, and from the red tinge of Ron's ears, he was just as furious as his brothers at the revelation that Draco Malfoy was the new Slytherin Seeker. "Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" Fred sneered, disgust clear on his face. None of the Weasleys were inclined to forget the Flourish and Blotts incident.

"You know," Flint drawled, "it's funny you should mention Draco's father. It's thanks to him we have these, after all." Calla's attention was drawn to the matching black brooms the Slytherin team all bore, each of them smirking. So they had matching brooms, big deal, she thought.

Though, from the outraged gasp that came from Harry, it was clear they weren't just any brooms. "Those are Nimbus Two Thousand And One's!" he declared indignantly, and Calla nodded as if she understood the significance of his words.

"They sure are," Flint leered. "State of the art racing brooms. Better than the Two Thousands, and as for Cleansweeps," he shot Fred and George a looknof disdain, "sweep the floor with them. With these, we can't lose."

"Yeah?" Hermione challenged, surpsin Calla. She usually didn't care about Quidditch all that much. "At least no one on the Gryffindor Team had to buy their way in!"

There were laughs from the reds, but this only seemed to aggravate the Slytherins. "No one asked for you're opinion," Draco hissed at Hermione, "filthy little mudblood."

"Draco!" Daphne hissed, eyes crackling in fury. If Calla didn't know better, she would have thought Malfoy was a tad intimidated by her outburst. "Apologise to Hermione!"

"No," he said flatly.

Calla noticed Ron lunge forward and grabbed him before he could do anything stupid, like trying to attack Malfoy. "Don't," she whispered. "He's not worth it."

She had only a vague idea of what the word mudblood actually meant, but from what she did know, it was clear it was a slur, one of the worst anyone could say against a muggleborn such as Hermione. Dumbledore would handle it much better than Ron could, and it was obvious he wouldn't be doing anything of us with his still broken wand.

Maybe she should have kept a better eye on the twins. Two spells roared at the Slytherins, knocking five of them flat onto the ground, brooms flying in the air in all directions. "Teach you to talk like that," George growled, holding his wand tight in his hand. "Now, clear off."

To Calla's surprise, some of the Slytherins did, after picking up their brooms. Only Flint, Malfoy, and one other boy remained, glaring indignantly at Gryffindor. "There's not much point in you practicing with only three members," Angelina pointed out, smirking. "Sorry. Maybe next time."

Flint looked like he dearly wanted to hit her, but thought better of it, grabbing his broom and leading the other two boys inside. The doors slammed shut behind them and the Gryffindor cheered.

Calla exchanged weary glances with Daphne and Padma, though her blood still boiled over Malfoy's comment. The incident seemed to only further fuel Wood's anger over the Ravenclaws sitting in on practice, and so the trio had to return to the castle, Daphne complaining loudly about Malfoy for everyone to hear.

xxxx

The next month or so passed, for the most part, without incident. Calla managed to get an A on her Transfiguration test, which she'd shown to Harry the first chance she got, on a bit of a high from the improvements she'd made. She'd told Uncle Moony all about it in her letters to him, too, of course, and felt a strange sort of relief when he told her he was proud of her for it. While maybe she'd never be a Transfiguration prodigy, at least she was doing better, she told herself. Plus, her average grade for school was now getting closer and closer to an E after her good marks in a History of Magic essay. Every day, her mood improved.

Of course, as the year drew in, the upcoming Slytherin v Gryffindor Quidditch Match grew ever closer. Harry seemed to be in a state of perpetual exhaustion, along with everyone else on the Gryffindor team - barring Oliver Wood, of course - and Ron and Hermione had long since given up on waking at dawn to watch them practice.

All Harry seemed to be doing recently was Quidditch practice, really. While Calla didn't fault him for it, it still made things awkward, and she hadn't held a proper conversation with him outside of class in God knew how long.

Instead, most of her time was taken up by the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs in her year, all of them equally fed up by the constant talk about Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Calla, Daphne, Padma, and Anthony lounged back against a tree by the black lake, textbooks forgotten by their side as they watched the impromptu game of 'ground Quidditch' unfold before their eyes.

On one team, Lisa, Mandy, Terry, Michael, and Sue played, passing a makeshift quaffle between their hands. Michael was running about rather comically in the three goal hoops, as the other time, comprised of Zacharias, Hannah, Susan, Ernie, and Izzy, struggled to tackle the quaffle from the others' grips.

Daphne positively screeched with laughter when Zach dove towards Terry, grabbing the quaffle from his hands, whirled around to shoot it through a hoop, and promptly tripped over, dropping it on his foot. Of course, Sue took this opportunity with a grin, jumping forward to grab the quaffle and launch it towards Mandy's waiting, open arms.

In fascination, Calla watched as Mandy grabbed the ball and ran headlong at the middle hoop where Ernie stood, before twisting ever so slightly and tossing it into the one on the far right. "Yes, Mandy!" Padma cheered, standing up to applaud. "Ten points!"

Zach grumbled something about it being unfair, and that he should have at least gotten some points for his tremendous tackle, while Calla giggled. "Don't laugh at me," he pouted, though there was a hit. Of a laugh on his face, too. "My foot is in pain."

"You should see Madam Pomfrey about that," Daphne said matter of factly, giving Zach a mocking stare. In return, he stuck his tongue out at her and huffed, plopping down onto the grassy lawn.

"Game's over," he declared. "You've got, like, fifty points over us, and I'm tired."

"Sucks to be you, then," Lisa said, though she too came to sit with them, crowding by the tree. "I would hate to be on the losing team."

"You only won on luck," Justin grumbled, though he was smiling. "Not skill."

"Tell that to your Quidditch Team," Daphne snarked back. "As I recall, Ravenclaw beat their arses last season."

That shut Justin up, as he flopped down to face up at the sky, eyes closed. "Wake me if the squid comes out the lake," he murmured, and within seconds appeared to be asleep.

Calla giggled, looking down at her sketchbook. She'd been focused on drawing Padma while they watched the match, capturing her concentrated expression and furrowed brow. It was far from perfect, but the proportions of her face were better and more realistic, and she'd gotten some decent shading done, so that was counted as a small triumph for the day.

"I think I'm going to the same way as Justin," Hannah decided, lying down on her back. "I'm tired. Zach, you couldn't run to the kitchens and ask some house elves for butter beer, could you?"

"Get Ernie to do it," Zach whined, slinging an arm over Calla's shoulder. She looked up at him, eyebrows raised. "I'm busy entertaining our guests from Ravenclaw, aren't I?"

Ernie scowled. "Get them to go with you then."

"I couldn't possible-"

Calla huffed, standing up and grabbing Zach by the wrist. "Come on. I haven't been to the Hogwarts kitchens before, it'll be a nice little adventure."

With a grin, Zach leapt to his feet and bowed mockingly. "As you wish, Miss Potter."

Giggling, Calla took her sketchbook in hand, falling into step beside Zach on the path up to school.

"The kitchens are just about right next to the Hufflepuff dormitories," Zach explained as they trudged up the hill. "You can find them pretty easy from the Potions classroom too, so long as you know where to look."

Once inside, the hallways were darker than the bright sunlight from outside, and Calla blinked as she tried to adjust to the sudden change in lighting. Traipsing inside, Calla caught sight of Nearly Headless Nick floating about looking rather mournful, with the Fat Friar trying to comfort him. She caught only the words 'headless hunt' and 'bunch of elitists' as they passed, Zach giving the Friar a polite incline of the head. Calla hastened to do the same, all but tripping over herself to do so. Zach shot her an amused look, and she stuck out her tongue in retaliation.

"Joseph's been talking to Nick quite a lot lately," Zach commented airily to Calla once they were out of earshot. It took a second or so for Calla to click that he meant the Fat Friar, and she was rather surprised at herself for not thinking of if he had a real name. "He's upset because he's been rejected by the Headless Hunt again. You have to be headless to join you see."

Calla has thought that rather obvious. "And he's not quite there yet, is he?"

"Tragically, no." Zach wrinkled his nose as they descended into the dungeons. "He's been invited to Nick's Deathday Party though, and he's tried to convince most of Hufflepuff to join him, but so far no one's really been that responsive."

"I wonder why," Calla said drily. She wasn't sure exactly what a Deathday Party could entail, but it didn't sound like much fun at any rate, at least not by her definition of the word.

"Here," Zach said, stopping her at a portrait of a fruit bowl. He reached out and stroked - no, tickled - the pear and a door swung open. Calla pokes her head in with a frown, taken aback by the expansive room before her, filled by what must have been a hundred house elves at least, all busy at work. The smell of baking bread filled the air, but everywhere Calla turned there was something new: strawberries, cream, pumpkin juice, chicken.

"Woah," she whispered. In truth, she'd never thought much about the Hogwarts' kitchen staff, just assumed the food they had appeared of it's own accord, or that their beds made themselves by magic. A young looking house elf came running up to them, and Calla was struck by the resemblance to Dobby. It made her frown. He hadn't seemed very happy with his work, and she wondered if the Hogwarts elves were the same, though she wasn't sure if it was prudent to ask. From what little Daphne had told her about house elves, most of them enjoyed working for their masters, even if the concept didn't sit quite well with Calla. She didn't want to upset anyone, at any rate, and tuned into Zach's conversation instead.

"Hey," he greeted the house elf, who looked up with great, bulging blue eyes. "Any chance we could get two jugs of cool lemonade?"

"Of course, sir!" The house elf chirped. "Dippy will get cool lemonade for sir and madam!"

He disappeared into thin air with a snap of his fingers, then resurfaced in a moment or so with another elf, clutching the jugs of lemonade. "Good day, sir and madam!" Dippy chirped, as Calla and Zach both took the jugs of lemonade, welcoming the coolness of it against their skin.

"Thank you, Dippy," Calla said with a shy smile and awkward half-curtsy, stumbling out the door just to see the tail end of Dippy's grin.

The door swung shut and they continued onwards. Calla frowned down at the floor, as the stones beneath her started to twist and mangle themselves, pulling in different directions. "Zach," she said, voice hollow to her own ears. "What's up with the floor?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, chuckling. "There's nothing up with the floor."

"No," she argued. "There's..." She didn't get to finish her sentence, as the floor disappeared and she reeled back, staring into a black hole. Her heart picked up, as an image began to swirl in the darkness.

It was a Quidditch game. Red and green clashed in the sky, Gryffindor and Slytherin battling on in front of the school. Cheers rose around the stadium, but Calla felt a strange sense of nausea, as the image before her homes in on Harry, face paled and slick with sweat. She frowned, and would have shouted out to him, but her voice didn't seem able to work. In shock, she reached for her throat, eyes still transfixed on the image.

A black blur rose behind Harry and she shrieked as it came closer, faster than the speed of light. A bludger. Harry's eyes widened in terror and he rolled to the side to escape the bludger, veering off course. The vision smudged and Calla thought the world was about to return to normal when she was jerked back to the darkness, where she saw Harry's arm, utterly limp and flopping about like a fish. Bile rose in her throat as she forced herself to look away, and return to jarring reality.

She was still where she had been just before, though Zach clutched her arm. "Calla?" he asked, brow etched with concern. "Are you okay? Merlin, you look pale. Should I get Madam Pomfrey?"

"No," she said hastily, pressing her free hand to her head. It wasn't sore or anything, she just felt, strange. She couldn't shake the image of Harry's arm, limp and floppy like that. "I think I'm okay. Might just need some air, come on, let's get this outside to the others."

She gently slipped away from Zach, careful to keep an eye on where she was headed for fear she might trip or stumble or faint, and then Zach would surely be too concerned not to take her to the hospital wing. But a sliver of fear tugged in her gut. It was like last year, her vision of the mirror, when she'd fallen in the forest.

She frowned as they left the dungeons, lost in thought. She'd have to write Uncle Moony, she decided. Sooner rather than later. He must know what to do, mustn't he?

She wasn't sure, but she could hope.


	21. Ch20 - Deathday Party

October 19th

 _Dear Calla,_

 _I'm afraid I don't have very many answers for you. Your dizzy and faint spells may be because of any number of medical issues, to which I would urge you to definitely speak to Madam Pomfrey sooner rather than later, or I shall take it upon myself to do so. It could be linked to your magic, though. I've heard many stories of students who struggle at practical schoolwork also having issues with blood and iron levels, as iron is largely what powers out magic._

 _However, as far as your visions go, I think you may have the makings of a Seer. The blacking out is an issue that definitely has to be addressed either way, but if the visions you have do indeed come to fruition, then I think it is highly likely you've been given the gift of Sight._

 _You won't have the option to study Divination until third year, when you choose elective subjects, but if this persists I will write to Dumbledore and Flitwick myself asking if you can have lessons with Professor Trelawney to understand this better, if that is what you want._

 _In other news, I have been speaking to your aunt and uncle recently. They've agreed that in this Summer, you and Harry can come straight home with me and not have to bother with Privet Drive. Of course, if you want to visit them you are more than welcome to, though somehow I do doubt that. I'm coming to see Harry's first Quidditch match this year, so do tell him to stick in at training, and I shall see you then._

 _Love as always,_

 _Uncle Moony_

Calla grinned as she folded the letter away, slipping it under her textbook. Even if it hadn't been particularly helpful, she felt some reassurance in the fact that Uncle Moony at least knew what was going on, and that for the most part he seemed to understand her issue.

She smiled and made a mental note to speak to Madam Pomfrey right after breakfast. Originally, she'd been meaning to go and visit Hagrid with Padma, Daphne, and Hermione, but a storm was gathering outside her window, and she wasn't sure she wanted to face it. Harry's Quidditch practice, of course, would never be called off for something as trivial as a thunderstorm weather.

"You're up early, Calla," Mandy commented, coming in from the common room. She always got up at the crack of dawn to go down to the library, saying it was quieter then, though Calla had never been in the library when it wasn't silent. "Did you not sleep well?"

She shook her head, gesturing to the piece of parchment beside her. "Got a letter from my godfather. Moony wouldn't stop pecking at the window until I got up."

Mandy chuckled, sitting down on the edge of her bed and setting about combing her hair. "You're welcome to use the bathroom, by the way," she added. "I'm already dressed."

"Yeah." Calla blinked and got her day robes from her case. Though last year she'd been confined to usual wizarding wear, over the summer, Uncle Moony had helped her and Harry transform their robes into something resembling fashion, and so now she wore a bright red denim jean dress, a white t-shirt, and a lightweight, pale grey day robe over the top.

When she left the bathroom, Daphne and Lisa were both up, bickering while Padma and Mandy looked on with exasperated expressions. "What's up?" Calla asked Padma, settling down next to her and watching the unfolding argument.

"Lisa thinks Daphne's moved her hairbrush. Daphne said she'd never touch anything that had been dragged through Lisa's hair, and that her own hairbrush was worth ten of Lisa's." She bit her lip, and Calla winced. She'd gone a bit far, then. "Lisa, obviously, wasn't happy with this."

"You're so annoying!" Daphne shouted at Lisa, flinging a silver comb at her, which Lisa narrowly dodged. "Can't you just leave us alone?"

"All I did was ask if you had my hairbrush!" Lisa screeched back. "You just got offended, because you're not used to people challenging you, like a little princess!"

"Do you really want to go there?" Daphne scoffed. "Merlin, you're insufferable."

"And you're a cow," Lisa retorted, snatching Daphne's comb off the floor. "And I'll be having this until my brush is returned to me, safely. Sound fair?"

"No!" Daphne shouted back at her, face growing redder with every second that passed. "That's my comb! Put it down!"

"If you give me my hairbrush!"

"I don't have your stupid hairbrush! Give me back my comb, you idiot!"

"Daphne!" Padma shouted, cutting between the pair of them. "Knock it off." She turned to Lisa, hands shaking a little, as Calla's did when she was trying to calm her nerves. "Lisa, I really don't think Daphne took your brush. We can do a check of the dorm, it's probably just fallen under something. Alright?"

Both girls glared but obliged, and Lisa dropped Daphne's comb. The blonde snatched it right back up, cradling it to her chest as the silver caught the light and gleamed.

In the end, the hairbrush was under Lisa's robes, and it took all of two minutes to find it. After that, Daphne was in a foul mood all day and decided to stomp off to see her sister after lunch. Padma accompanied Calla to the Hospital Wing to ask Madam Pomfrey about her faint spells. She'd been given a Pepperup Potion and a Wide-Eye Potion, as well as been told to come back if it wasn't improving by the start of November.

Later on, as the storm refused to relent, Padma and Calla visited the library to do their essays for History Of Magic.

"Here, Calla." Padma tossed a book to her, and she caught it with a grunt. "Modern Magical History. Pretty sure you're in that one, actually."

Calla wrinkled her nose, flicking through the pages. She'd read the other two books she and her brother supposedly featured in, but this one was always being checked out of the Hogwarts library, and she'd never gotten the chance to buy it in Flourish and Blotts. In the other two books she'd read, there had only been short mentions of what happened, and speculations on how ranging from her being You-Know-Who reincarnated, to Harry being blessed by Merlin's ghost.

Sure enough, there was a chapter entitled in the contents page: _The Fall of The Dark Lord - Harry and Calla Potter_. She flicked ahead to see what the historian had to say about her and her brother, raising her eyebrows at some of the suggestions as to how they survived.

 _Some say,_ the passage read, _that the Potter twins survived by being bearers of dark magic themselves._ Calla snorted. Because one year old babies were known for being talented with the Dark Arts. _Others suggest that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named simply failed and met his fate. Others say that Lily and James Potter, known Order of the Phoenix members, fought He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named themselves, defeating him before their own deaths and leaving their children orphaned._

 _However, sources close to the Potters say that the Potters were fighters till the very end, and skilled in their work. It is only due to the betrayal of James Potter's own friend, Sirius Black, that they were ever found in the first place, a sign of their magical abilities to conceal their whereabouts and protect their family._

The rest of the passage went on to basically reiterate what Calla had already heard from people who knew her parents, and what she'd read in other books. Yet something about the passage bothered her. She was sure she'd never heard the name Sirius Black before, but it still rung a bell, and she didn't know why. Harry might, she decided, and set the book down on the desk. Padma glanced up, and frowned at the expression on Calla's face. "I'm assuming you weren't looking at the Rise of Gellert Grindelwald, then?"

Calla shook her head, looking outside at the still pelting rain. "Gryffindor Quidditch practice ought to be finished by now. I'm off to speak to Harry."

She rolled up her half finished essay and stuffed it in her satchel. "See you at dinner, yeah?"

Padma hummed in response, as Calla made her exit.

She found him trailing mud around the corridors, soaked through from the rain on his way up to Gryffindor Tower. "Harry!" she called after him as he was about to turn a corner. He ignored her and she shouted again. "Harry!"

This time he turned around sullenly, and then brightened when he saw her. "Calla!" he cheered, halting until she caught up to him. "Hey! What are you doing around here, I thought you'd be studying with Padma."

"We were-" she shrugged- "but I read something about our parents and what happened to us, and I wanted to find you so we could talk about it."

Harry's eyes lit up. "What did you find out?"

"It was in 'Modern Magical History'. It mentioned someone called Sirius Black, I was wondering if you'd ever heard anything about him."

He shook his head, brow urrowing. "Not that I can think of. What did it say about him?"

"That it's due to him that You-Know-Who found out where our parents were that night." She let the implications of that sink in with Harry, biting her lip. "I thought... Well, I don't know what I thought, really. I just wanted to know if you knew anything about him."

"No, I haven't-"

He cut himself off and Calla followed his gaze, eyes falling upon Nearly Headless Nick, the ghost of Gryffindor Tower. She hadn't spoken to him many times, but knew the Grey Lady of Ravenclaw didn't like him much; then again, she didn't like any of the other ghosts much.

"Hey, Nick," Harry said quietly. The ghost startled, turning around with a morose expression.

"Hello, hello." His voice was flat, dejected. "Young students... you look troubled."

"So do you," Harry replied. "What's wrong, Nick?"

"The matter is of little importance." He sighed. "But you'd think, wouldn't you, being hit over forty times in the neck with a blunt axe... ought to qualify one for the Headless Hunt... but no. Just... not quite good enough, is it?"

Ah, so that was what Zach had been talking about. It seemed Nick had been rejected... again. Realising that Harry didn't know what to say, Calla spoke up, "I think that ought to be more than good enough," she said indignantly. "You're more than qualified, Sir, I'm sure everyone in Hogwarts would agree."

"Not in the eyes of the Headless Hunt," Nick grumbled. He pulled a letter from his pocket, thrusting it before Calla and Harry's eyes.

We can only accept huntsmen whose heads have parted company with their bodies. You appreciate that it would otherwise be impossible for members to participate in hunt activities such as Horseback Head-Juggling and Head Polo. It is with the greatest regret, therefore, that we must inform you that you do not fulfill our requirements. With best wishes, Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore.

Calla thought that was actually rather polite as far as declining people from joining Headless hunts could go, but Nick was still fuming. "Half an inch!" he shouted. "Half an inch of sinew keeping my head attached to my neck, and that's all! That'd be good and beheaded for most people, but no! Not for Sir Properly-Headless Podmore!" He took in a deep sigh, as Calla bit back a laugh at the nickname. Nick probably wouldn't appreciate her laughter at such a critical moment. "But regardless, what is troubling you two this day?"

Just as Calla was debating whether or not to mention Sirius Black, Harry seized the opportunity. "What do you know about hearing voices?"

Okay, Calla hadn't expected that to come from Harry. She gave him a funny look. "What do you mean hearing voices?"

"Explain later." She huffed, rolling her eyes. Sure, Harry. Explain later, after already asking a ghost about hearing voices. Logic!

"My boy, I hear all sorts of voices," Nick said. "Comes with being a ghost, you see."

That made sense. More sense than Harry apparently 'hearing voices'. "I see."

Before any of them could continue, Calla heard a faint meowing sound and turned around, to see Mrs Norris' beady yellow eyes trailing over the mud Harry had trekked into the corridor. She withheld a groan, but Nick picked up on the cat's presence, too. "Potters, you two had best go before Mr Filch sees the two of you and the mud you've trailed in here."

Calla wasn't sure if it was polite to point out that Harry had been the one who'd trailed the mud in there, not her. Either way, her brother took off running and she followed, not willing to chance it.

He stopped abruptly at the end of the corridor and Calla groaned as she stumbled backwards, caught off guard by his sudden halt. Over her brother's shoulder, Calla could see Mr Filch sneering down at them, looking none too pleased with them.

"You've been smearing mud all over these corridors," he muttered, voice bitter. "Just cleaned these floors, too. 'Pose you think it's all a bit of fun."

"We're very sorry, sir," Calla said, biting her lip. "We didn't mean to get mud in here or to ruin your hard work, really."

He didn't seem to care. "Both of you, my office, now. Oh, I'd like to get you hanging from the ceiling."

Harry gulped as they followed Mr Filch. Mrs Norris crept along beside them, sharp yellow eyes glaring at Calla any time she looked down. "He's not actually allowed to hang us from the ceiling, is he?" Calla was sure the answer ought to be no, but then again Hogwarts' system of punishment had never held much logic or concern for health and safety standards, had it? Actually, Calla wondered if the wizarding world at large had any rules for health and safety standards? If that bloody tree in the grounds was anything to go by, then no, it did not.

As the twins trudged behind Mr Filch, Calla crossed her arms, sending Harry a frustrated glance. He didn't look particularly guilty of anything, just a bit moody, and she tried to put down her irritation at the laxness in his stature. Other students in the halls looked upon them with pity, which did not discourage Calla from feeling sorry for herself as she followed her brother and Mr Filch in a huff.

They came to his office and were shown inside with a mean glare from Mr Filch, baring his teeth like a wild animal. Calla shuddered, taking a seat next to Harry. Her shoulders were hunched as she looked up at Mr Filch, fearing what sort of punishment he would think of for them. She, unlike Harry, did not get into trouble often, but Mr Filch's crude face reminded her so much of Uncle Vernon's that she couldn't help but feel the hot sting of tears behind her eyes, both of anger and fear. Harry, of course, barely looked like he cared, though she knew hat didn't necessarily mean that he didn't.

"Right," he hissed, pulling out parchment from his drawers as Calla looked around, trying to distract herself. "Let's see. Names, Harry Potter, Calla Potter. Crime-"

"It was just a little mud," Harry muttered, and Calla kicked him roughly in the shins.

Filch's gaze snapped up, beady eyes furious. "A little mud for you is an hours worth of scrubbing for me," he snarled, one of the veins in his forehead turning an off sort of purple colour.

"We are sorry, sir," Calla tried again, but it seemed her usual tactic of making teachers sympathise with her would not work on Filch. A drip of something Calla didn't particularly want to consider hung off the edge of his nose, and she tried to stop her nose from wrinkling in disgust.

"Crime," he repeated, a harsh, cruel edge to his tone, "befouling the castle. Suggested sentence..."

He dabbed at his nose, squinting as he considered the twins' sentence. Calla watched with bated breath as he pressed the nib of his quill to the parchment, only to be disrupted by a loud 'bang!'.

Immediately, Filch was on his feet, face turning purple. "Peeves!" he bellowed, voice booming. "I'll get you for this!" He raised his fist as though to pummel Peeves, wherever he was, dropping his quill without grace onto the desk.

He sprinted from the room after that, Mrs Norris quick to follow. The door slammed shut behind him and Harry slumped back in his chair, as did Calla. "Thank God for that," he said, sighing. "Thought he was going to hang us by the feet."

Calla gave him a withering glare. "You're not funny, Harry."

He just shrugged, grinning. "Gotta thank Peeves for his timing, I guess," Harry said, hands thrumming against the edge of the desk. "He's annoying, but at least he can be useful."

"Yeah." Calla looked pointedly at Harry, whose fingers were beating an awkward rhythm against the wooden desk. There was hardly anything on it, just the form and a silver and purple envelope. Sensing Calla's irritation, Harry took his hands away from the edge of the desk, but in the next moment looked over his shoulder and took the envelope from the desk.

Calla slapped it from his hands and it fell to the floor. "Are you out of your mind?" she hissed. "Don't read his letters."

"Why?" He bent down, picking the envelope back up. "We're already in trouble."

"Yeah," she muttered, "you don't have to make it bloody worse, Harry."

"Look at this," was all Harry said, pouting to the envelope. Calla looked pointedly away. "Kwikspell," he read aloud, clearly unable to resist the desire to involve her in a crime. "A correspondence course in beginner's magic. Huh. Wonder what he needs that for?"

"Why don't you ask him?" Calla huffed in response, folding her arms across her chest.

"Says here its an all-new, fail-safe, quick results course. Teaches you about holding a wand and everything. Hundreds of witches and wizards have benefitted form the Kwikspell method." He paused for a moment as Calla bristled. "Dunno why Filch wants it. Do you think it means he's not a proper wizard or something? Or he just struggles with magic or something, like-"

"How am I supposed to know?" Calla snapped, turning to face him with a glare. "You shouldn't be reading it anyway." Of course, he still did. Bloody reckless Gryffindor. She couldn't say she wasn't a tiny bit intrigued, but she still had the common sense to know that reading Filch's private letters was not a way to get in his good graces.

As the sound of footsteps fell outside, Harry hastily stuffed the letter in the envelope and tossed it across the desk, though slyness had never been his strong point. It was very, very obvious that he'd read it, and Filch's face blanched in the middle of declaring how valuable a vanishing cabinet was.

His face went bright red, and Mrs Norris hissed. Calla looked up with wide, innocent eyes, while Harry wore guilt all over his face. Mr Filch hobbled over to his desk, stuffing the envelope in a drawer, face her brightening.

"Have you-" he began to splutter- "did you - read-"

"No," Harry lied, and Calla nodded in agreement.

Filch twisted his hands together, mouth set in a nervous line. "If I thought that you'd... That you'd read my private... Not that it was for me of course... For a friend... But even so..."

Calla was doing her best no to stare at Filch right now. His face put him in danger of being a mascot for Gryffindor, it was that red, and his eyes bulged from their sockets, purple-blue veins ready to pop.

"Can we go now, sir?" she asked timidly.

"Very well... You may go... Don't say a word now... Don't... Of course if you haven't read... Anyway I must write up Peeves' report now..."

The twins took that as their cue to back out of the office, slowly, closing the door with a faint click behind them. "That was lucky," Harry said with a low whistle.

"Yeah," Calla muttered in agreement, and took him by the wrist. "Come on, let's go before he changes his mind and strings us up from a tree or something."

They didn't get far before Calla heard Sir Nicholas' cry of, "Potters! Calla, Harry!" They turned, smiling as Nicholas glided out from a classroom, the remains of a black and gold cabinet behind him. "Did it work?" he asked, eyes bright - or as bright as they could get for a ghost.

Calla grinned, realising what he'd done to get them out of it with Filch. Sir Nicholas was more of a badass than she'd given him credit for.

"I persuaded Peeves to drop it for me," he told them eagerly. "Thought it might distract Filch."

"It worked brilliantly, Sir Nicholas," Calla told him, beaming. "Thank you!"

"Yeah," Harry added, "we didn't even get detention, it was great! Thanks, Nick."

The trio set up off the corridor together, Calla giddy with relief now, and with a great deal of gratitude and respect for Gryffindor's house ghost. She noticed Sir Nick was still holding his rejection letter, but wasn't sure whether it was polite to mention until Harry spoke up.

"I do still wish there was some way I could help with the Headless Hunt business," Harry told Sir Nicholas.

He stopped in his tracks, leading Harry to walk through him and pale in fright.

"But there is!" Sir Nicholas said, excitedly. "Well, it would be asking a lot I suppose, and, no, I doubt you'd want to-"

"What is it, Sir Nicholas?" Calla asked, only too eager to repay him for helping them out.

"Well, this Halloween is my five hundredth Deathday Party, you see," he told them twitchily.

Of course, Calla thought. The Grey Lady had had a Deathday Party last year, but from what she'd heard only Moaning Myrtle, the Bloody Baron, and a sixth year Prefect had been invited to it, with only Myrtle and the Baron actually showing up. Most ghosts, for whatever reason, seemed to take great pride in their Deathdays, and indeed, Sir Nicholas drew himself up in a proud manner, smiling.

"Congratulations," Calla told him with a smile, nudging Harry so he would offer his congratulations too. He looked confused, and she couldn't really blame him much for that.

"I'm holding it in one of the bigger dungeons," Sir Nicholas said. "I have friends coming from all across the country, and it would be such an honour if the pair of you would come. Mr Weasley and Miss Granger are more than welcome too of course, and young Miss Potter's friends too, of course." His shoulders slumped. "But I suppose you'd rather go to the school feast, wouldn't you?"

"Of course not," Harry assured him quickly, "we'd love to come, Nick!"

"Wonderful!" he cried. "Harry and Calla Potter at my Deathday Party! And-" he paused, possibly for dramatic effect, "do you think you could mentioned to Sir Patrick how impressive and terrifying you think I am?"

"Of course!" Calla told him, smiling. "We'd be only too happy, wouldn't we, Harry!"

Sir Nicholas beamed.

That was how, on Halloween Night, Calla ended up in the dungeons with Harry, Ron, Hermione, Padma, and a very disgruntled Daphne. Her blonde friend sniffed as they entered the party, wrinkling her nose and almost gagging on the smell of rotten fish. Calla tried to hide her disgust, and thought she was at least doing a slightly better job than Daphne.

"We should go and say hello to Sir Nicholas," Calla suggested with uncertainty, looking to Harry. "It's only polite."

"Yes," he said, swallowing. "I think I can see him over there, by that..." He squinted, and Calla did too.

"Yeah, I don't think I want to know what that is," she said, taking her brother's hand to lead the way. "Let's go."

She was quite sure their friends were following as she and Harry crossed the room towards Sir Nicholas, who was in conversation with a rather plump ghost who smiled when she saw them. "I recognise you," she said, to Calla rather than Harry, which surprised her. "You're a Ravenclaw girl, yes?" She nodded. "I was a Ravenclaw in my time, you know. Friend of her daughter's, actually, before all that nasty business." Calla had learnt it was best not to ask about 'nasty business' when ghosts brought the subject up.

"How did you enjoy Hogwarts in your time?" Calla asked, watching as Sir Nicholas and Harry greeted one another, their other friends looking distinctly uncomfortable. At least Ron and Padma were able to look like they weren't going to be sick. "Were there as many students as there are now?"

"Not quite, no," the ghost laughed. "Couldn't have been many more than a dozen people in my year, everyone knew one another in those days. And you had to get along, really, none of this divided houses nonsense. I distinctly remember Tutor Hufflepuff as being against it, though Gryffindor and Slytherin were always squabbling." She shrugged. "We weren't supposed to involve ourselves with our teachers' lives, of course, but in a school as small as ours, it was inevitable." The ghost paused, frowning. "Sorry, I've just realised I didn't introduce myself, did I? Awfully rude of me."

"It's okay," Calla smiled. "I haven't either - Calla Potter."

The ghost looked surprised, but it was gone after a split second as she smiled. "Marion MacNairn. It is a pleasure to speak with you, Miss Potter. I often find that, while our house is right to study, we have a tendency to forgo conversation, especially with the ghosts." At that, she cast her eyes downwards, looking almost forlorn. Calla made to reach out and pat her arm for comfort, but it went straight through her. Still, Marion smiled. "Tell me, dear, what year are you in? First, second?"

"Second," Calla replied. "Did you have all scene tears when you studied here?"

Marion nodded. "It is the most powerful magic number, after all. Our tutors said that studying for seven years would be far more beneficial than eight, or three. We didn't have these examinations as you do though, the Cats and the Fruits."

"Do you mean OWLs and NEWTs?" Calla asked in confusion.

Marion beamed. "That's the one! No, no, we only had a few subjects back in those days. Charms, Herbology, Alchemy - suppose they roll that in with their Potions nowadays though - Transfiguration, Runes, and Arithmancy." She wrinkled her silvery nose. "They call them ancient runes nowaday, I think that's rather a bit of cheek."

Calla snorted. "I suppose so. I was considering studying that next year when we choose more subjects, but I'm not sure. What did you think of that and Arithmancy?"

"Well, Arithmancy was rather dull," Marion said honestly, making Calla laugh. "Very little practical work, but I suppose that's what some people are better at isn't it, so it may benefit some more than others. Runes was much the same, though you might study from a different perspective. A lot of translation, but both tie into your practical work a lot, they can make it stronger."

Calla frowned. She could definitely do with strengthening her practical work, though she was sure she had to take Divination. "I can see the point of that," she told Marion. "I'm not that good practically, myself," she added, not really knowing why. Her friends and Harry had all disappeared now, she realised, but she didn't mind awfully, Even it did leave her feeling odd. "But I know I definitely want to take Divination."

"Oh, yes? I know a few past generations of Ravenclaw who studied that, they introduced it long after my time, of course. It is of course vital to the pursuit of knowledge, but I know many found it challenging if one doesn't have a natural talent." She arched an eyebrow. "Or do you have a natural talent? Don't worry, I know some may dismiss it, but I know myself some of those who have possessed the sight. I won't pass judgment."

Calla felt herself light up at that. Not just the validation - for she was rather concerned what Harry and her friends would think of her visions - but the fact that Marion knew others like her. That maybe, she could find a way to speak with them, to understand and make sense of what was happening to her. "I do," she admitted then, biting her lip only a little bit from nerves. "Well, I have visions sometimes, and they usually come true."

"I know another ghost like that," Marion told her, voice hushed. "If you like, I could introduce-"

She didn't get to finish. At that moment, there was a loud wail and Moaning Myrtle flew over the tops of partygoers, dissolving into tears and disappearing to beside Marion. "That awful Peeves," she hiccoughdd, in between sobs. "Horrible Peeves."

"Don't listen to him," she said quietly, vaguely aware of a lot of kerfuffle behind her, and Nick's voice with Harry's.

"Says no one likes me," Myrtle sobbed, as Marion tried in vain to comfort her. "Called me ugly, like everyone else! Ugly, miserable, moody, Moaning Myrtle!"

"I like you, Myrtle," Calla said with a shrug. It wasn't a straight lie. In truth, she didn't know Myrtle nearly well enough to have an opinion on her, and it was much easier to like people than dislike them anyway. "Your glasses are cool too, they're sort of similar to mine. Peeves is just mean to everyone."

Myrtle was quit for a second before wailing again. "You're a liar!" she wailed, and Calla jumped back in fright. "No one likes Moaning Myrtle!"

And with that, she let out a final wail and left the dungeon. Calla watched her go in confusion, eyes wandering to where a group of ghosts were playing what seemed like polo with their heads. Probably the Headless Hunt then.

"Do you think someone ought to see if she's okay?" Calla asked Marion, who shook her head.

"Won't do much good, Potter. Hard to shake Myrtle from a mood when she's in one, just have to be comforting while she's there and not bother her when she's not."

"Oh." Calla frowned, unsure whether to say anything more before Harry tapped her on the shoulder. "Hi, Harry," she said, turning around. "Um, Marion," she said, shifting awkwardly. "This is my brother, Harry."

"Nice to meet you," Harry said, politely as he could. "I actually came to tell Calla we're just about to leave, but if you want to stay and chat-"

But Marion was already floating away to another group of ghosts, so Calla just shrugged and turned around to follow Harry over to where the rest of their group was. "You seemed to be having a pretty good conversation until Myrtle appeared there," Harry said, and Calla shrugged.

Honestly, it had been surprisingly easy to speak to the ghost. Easier than it was speaking with a lot of living people, anyway. "She's interesting," was all she said, not sure if she wanted to mention the part about visions to her brother just yet. "Been alive almost a millennia, I think. Well," she corrected herself, "not alive. But you know, around."

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, I get it." They were by the fringes if the party now, where the others stood awkwardly saying goodbye to Sir Nicholas. Calla felt a sudden pang of guilt, having barely spoken to him all night or chatted him up to the Headless Hunt. Still, she trusted Harry would have, and now she had some other source to use for information about her visions. That was something, wasn't it?

"You lot don't look like you had fun," Calla said, once they were out of Sir Nicholas's earshot, making their way upstairs.

"We didn't," Ron muttered.

"It was disgusting," Daphne said, holding her nose aloof as though there were a bad smell under it. "Those ghosts were walking through the food to taste it and they still couldn't, don't know why they could just leave it unrotted. Stank, too, and I'm cold."

"It wasn't that bad," Padma reasoned uncertainly. Daphne glared at her. "Okay, it wasn't great, but it could have been worse."

"Yeah," Daphne scoffed. "Sure. At least Calla had fun, right?"

Surprised, she held her hands up in peace. "I never forced you to come. I was just having a nice conversation with one of the old Ravenclaws, Marion. She's very nice."

"Good for you, then," Ron huffed, as ascended the corridor. "I hated it. Bloody Myrtle annoyed me, too."

"Can you hear that?" Harry interrupted abruptly, just as Calla was about to reply to Ron.

She turned to stare at him, not having here anything. "Hear what?"

"You can't her it?" He looked around, green eyes widening in alarm. His eyes focused on Calla, who shook her head slowly, in a mix between bewilderment and terror. "None of you can?"

"Sorry, mate," Ron said, shrugging and looking nervously at Hermione.

"Is it still that hissing sound?" Hermione asked, and Calla looked at Daphne and Padma in confusion. Neither of them had any idea what the three Gryffindors were on about, which was an odd relief, as Ron and Hermione crowded around her brother in hushed tones.

Just as Calla was about to ask what exactly was happening, Harry sprang up. "It's going to kill someone," he said sharply, having gone quite white.

"Harry, what do you-"

"Come on!" he shouted at them, tearing off along the corridor towards the staircase which would lead to the first floor. Ron and Hermione followed hot on his heels, Calla close behind refusing to be out of this loop. She could hear Padma and Daphne bickering from behind her, but their footsteps at her back were a comfort as the group of six sprinted up the stairs.

They were some ways nearer to Myrtle's bathroom when they stopped dead in their tracks, Ron and Hermione barrelling into Harry. Calla had to go around them to spot the sight before her. On the wall opposite the bathroom door, in what looked like blood, were the words, "The chamber of secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir beware."

Silence fell among their group, Calla numb from the ghastly sight. It couldn't really be Blood she told herself, then almost gagged at the sight below the blood. Mrs Norris lay there, frozen in place and unmoving. "Merlin," Daphne whispered. "Do you - do you know what this means?"

They didn't, but no one spoke, only stared. Harry moved towards Mrs Norris, Maybe to touch her, see if she was alive or not, but Calla and Daphne yanked him back, just as the thundering of footsteps came up the stairs. Brilliant, Calla thought, as students began to flood into the corridor, and shrieks rang out. Her hands were still shaking, she realised, and she laced them together to rest, biting her lip.

She took a step back to the relative safety of her friends, pulling Harry with her and doing her best to blend in with everybody else as Mr Filch hobbled along the corridor. For a moment, his face was thundery at the idea of so many students in one place, but his face fell into terror and anguish as he recognised Mrs Norris' form frozen on the floor.

"That's... that's my cat." He looked up, eyes wild and furious. "Someone's... One of you... Someone's killed my cat." The students fell silent. "I'll kill them!" he shouted, waving a fist as a few younger years leapt away, flinching. Calla did, too. "I'll find them, and I'll kill them!"

"Argus," Professor Dumbledore's voice sounded, calm and collected even when Calla was certain no one could be near to calm or collected. "What has happened?"

"They killed my cat!" Filch hollered, spit flying from his mouth in his fury. "One of these students - your students - they've killed my cat!"

"Ah." Dumbledore laid a hand on Filch's arm, whispering hushed words that Calla didn't dare to listen in on.

Instead, she found herself unable to take her gaze away from the words on the wall, the fringes of her vision hazy. No, she told herself, not now. But of course, the vision took her anyway.

It wasn't much. A head of some sort of man, and spiders scuttling along the ground. Then she was jerked back to reality by the voice of Draco Malfoy ringing out across the corridor.

"Enemies of the heir, beware?" he read in a cold, sneering voice. Harry turned to him, moving forward, but Calla held him back with a furtive glance. Not the time. Malfoy gestured to Mrs Norris, in Filch's arms, with a crude sneer. "You'll be next, mudbloods."


	22. Ch21 - Talking It Out

After the incident with Mrs Norris, the students were sent back to their respective dormitories in a rush, Professor Flitwick anxiously shepherding the Ravenclaws along the corridor. Calla gave Harry a firm look as they parted ways, desperate to ask him more about the voices he'd supposedly been hearing. It seemed Ron and Hermione already knew, of course, but surely he ought to have let her know, too?

She sighed, back in Ravenclaw Tower, which was still abuzz with activity and students talking about this 'chamber of secrets'. Calla sat in the second year boys' dorm, huddled on Terry bed between him and Padma, the trio wrapped in an assortment of blankets. Daphne had gone straight to bed, declaring that she had a headache from all the talking and the smell from the Deathday Party, but the vast majority of students remained either downstairs in the common room, or in dormitories, discussing events.

"It must be something to do with Slytherin," Lisa said, sitting on Michael's bed with her knees tucked under her on Mandy's lap. "You lot all heard what Malfoy said, about..." She trailed off, pursing her lips. "About some people."

Though she didn't like to think of any of her fellow students murdering a cat, Calla admitted Malfoy's words had rattled her. He seemed to know what he was talking about, if his cocky sneer was anything to go by. "I think so, too," she said in a small voice, looking up at Lisa.

"The writing mentioned an heir, right?" Lisa said, frowning, seeming to be thinking along the same lines as Calla. "Do you think it's Slytherin's heir or something?"

Calla shrugged. "Might be."

"Of course," Mandy added, piping up from beside Lisa, "it could be heir of any of those noble houses. Loads of the Slytherins are from nobility, Malfoy, too." She shook her head with a frown, and made to speak, but no sound came out. She swallowed and bit her lip, looking down at the ground.

"You think Malfoy did it?" Michael asked, in a far too casual voice.

"Might have," Mandy told him, shrugging. "No way to know for certain."

"I don't think he did," Padma out in. "He's only twelve, no twelve year old would kill a cat."

"It is Mrs Norris though," Lisa pointed out, not very helpfully. Padma glared at her, as did Terry. "Oh, come on, you lot can't claim to like the cat? Everyone hates her, and Filch."

"Not enough to kill her, surely," Terry said, though it sounded more like a question.

He had gone rather pale, and his light brow furrowed. His eyes lifted to meet Calla's, and a guilty weight settled in her chest when she realised she hadn't even stopped to ask after him, or Isobel. The both of them would likely be shaken from what Malfoy had said, more so than any non-muggleborn, and she edged the tiniest bit closer to him, giving what she hoped was a comforting little bump to the shoulder. He shifted slightly, and gave a weak smile.

"I don't think Malfoy would have done it," Michael said, shaking his head. "I mean, he's an arsehole, don't get me wrong, but he looked shocked too when we first saw it, and he was at the feast all night, so he couldn't have done it. Unless any of you saw him leave?"

He looked around, but no one had. That stirred up a slight feeling of nerves in Calla's stomach, as she glanced at Padma. She bit her lip, but they dropped one another's gazes, hoping no one had noticed their nervous exchange. Lisa caught Calla's eye and she fought a flush, looking away and to Sue, who was speaking.

"I'll bet it was one of the Slytherins, though," she muttered. "From the way they've been bangin on about blood purity all the time."

"Why'd they go after Mrs Norris though?" was what Calla asked, still in vague bewilderment over it all. It didn't quite make sense to her, blood purity or the whole death of the cat. "She's a cat."

"Yeah," Michael said slowly, "but she's Filch's cat, ain't she?"

The others simply looked at him in confusion, waiting for an explanation. "And?" Lisa prompted after what felt like an eternity of silence. "We've already said this, Corner, keep up."

"Come on, have you ever seen Filch use magic?" Michael scoffed, rolling his eyes, and something clicked into Calla's head.

Kwikspell. Maybe he struggled with some practical magic, like she did, or maybe, he just couldn't use it.

"You think he's a squib?" Lisa asked, voice shrill. "Really, Corner?"

Michael shrugged. "It's possible. Come on, he's always complaining about mopping floors up for hours. Wouldn't be half as long if he used magic. That is, if he can use it."

A squib. The word rang a bell in Calla's mind, though she didn't know where she could know it from.

"And is that-" Isobel began, sounding uncertain as eyes swivelled to her. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"Gosh, I forget you're muggleborn sometimes, Izzy," Mandy said, shifting away from Lisa to meet Isobel's eyes. "Well, I suppose it's the inverse of a muggleborn, actually. Someone born to a wizarding family, but who doesn't have any wizarding powers themselves. I hear they're often very lonely, not fitting in to our world but not known to the muggle world." She shuddered. "I'd hate it."

Almost, as her perception of the wizarding world shifted again, Calla could begin to understand Filch's plight. To be born to wizards, to spend so long waiting to be like them, then finding out you weren't a wizard at all, you couldn't do magic, you couldn't go to Hogwarts. She'd only been in the wizarding world for a year, but she knew she'd never want to leave it. Imagine growing up like this, and being forced out, or worse, forced to watch everyone else around you enjoy it when you couldn't.

She loved magic, but it had never come as naturally to her as it did to Harry or her other friends. That felt bad enough, falling behind and having less power than them. She didn't want to imagine not having any power at all.

"That sounds awful for Filch," she found herself saying, voice somewhat hollow. "No wonder he hates us."

"You think?" Padma asked, wrinkling her nose a little.

"Imagine if you had to watch everyone around you live the life you've always wanted, and that you thought you had, but never could. That'd be enough to make anyone bitter, don't you think?"

The others nodded. "And now he doesn't even have his cat," Anthony said quietly. "He always had Mrs Norris, even if we all hated them both, he probably adores that cat."

A short, remorseful silence fell. "Merlin," Michael said abruptly, standing up and near knocking Mandy and Lisa off his bed. "This took a depressing turn. Right, you girls, you should get off to bed, I'm tired."

"We're not," Mandy retorted, shoving him with a glare. "Go kip in the common room or something, Corner."

"I am a bit tired too," Sue Li admitted shyly, and Mandy rolled her eyes.

"Fine then," she huffed, sliding off of Michael's bed and dragging Lisa behind her with a thud. "Come on you lot, let's go continue this in our dorm." She paused, pursing her lips. "Don't wake Greengrass, though. She's still annoyed with me for keeping her up with my snoring last night."

And with that, the girls followed her to their dorm, waving goodbye to the drowsy boys.

Despite plans to continue the conversation, it soon dropped off, descending into a discussion about the upcoming Quidditch match, lulling Calla into a sleep.

In her dreams, there was a cat chasing after a horde of chittering spiders, overlooked by a pair of bright, large, unblinking yellow eyes. She couldn't recall the details, only the cat, the spider, and the eyes, the chase repeating itself over and over until the cat came to a stop of boredom and the spiders scuttled away. Yet still remained the yellow eyes, decaying slowly to the colour of parchment as the morning rain washed away her dreams.

The first thing Calla did the next morning was write a letter to send out to Uncle Moony about the situation at Hogwarts. Though she didn't know exactly what he could do about it, she thought he ought to know what was going on.

When she sent Moony off with the letter, she turned around and tested against the windowsill, back to the sunlight. It was early morning yet, and even Mandy wasn't up yet, each girl sound asleep as if the events of the night before had never even happened in the first place.

It was peculiar, she thought, how in sleep, everyone looked so peaceful. Then she realised she was being far too deep for ten past six in the morning on a Sunday, and yawned, shattering her personal moment. Next step on the agenda was to speak to Harry about his voices, and her visions too. There was every chance that they were connected, and Calla admitted that some part of her hoped that they were. Not least because it meant she wasn't alone, but because it meant one more thing tied her to her brother, and maybe this was something he could confide in Calla about over Ron and Hermione.

She wasn't sure she liked the jealousy she felt when she thought of how Harry told them everything, or at least more than he told Calla. They clearly knew about his voices, but she hadn't the faintest idea about them until last night.

The thought made her bitter so she shoved it down, biting hard on her lip as she went to get ready.

When she crept out the bathroom a quarter of an hour later, the girls were all still sleeping, so she brushed her hair as quietly as she could, grabbed her bag and a copy of 'Pride and Prejudice' - borrowed from Hermione - tucked her wand into her boot and set off down the stairs into the Ravenclaw common room.

To her surprise, some of the older years had already woken up, and many were studying, others talking to younger students who were pale faced, looking nervous. Probably after last night, Calla realised with a twisting gut, as she settled into a blue and brown patchwork armchair, looking up at the swirl of stars painted on the Ravenclaw ceiling.

The common room, even after all this time, never failed to amaze her in its beauty. She was certain no other house's common room could be nearly as gorgeous, or full of wonders and secrets to discover, in the bookshelves and the tapestries.

Opening the book, Calla was careful not to break the spine - Hermione was particular about caring for books - and began to read, investing herself as far as she could in Elizabeth Bennett's life, while keeping an eye on the brass clock in the corner of the room.

When it reached five minutes to seven, she stood up, tucking 'Pride and Prejudice' away in her book bag and doing a final check for her copy of 'Hogwarts: A History' before she left the common room, giving a jaunty wave to Anthony as she watched him trudge down the bottom steps.

Despite the early hours of the morning, the Great Hall's tables were laden with breakfast foods and Calla tucked in, devouring her bacon and scrambled eggs with fervour. A couple of upper years were already seated, and she recognised Penelope Clearwater from Percy Weasley's year sitting alone. She caught her eye and waved, to which Penelope smiled and moved closer to Calla, sitting next to her.

"Hey," she greeted with a smile. "You're Calla Potter, right?"

For some reason, she hadn't expected to be addressed, and felt a strange sort of tug in her stomach, not quite nerves. "Uh, yeah," she mumbled, stumbling over her words. "That's me." She looked timidly up at Penelope, whose flaxen hair shone in the early morning sun. "You're Penelope Clearwater, aren't you?"

"Yeah." Penelope smiled, and pointed to the copy of 'Pride and Prejudice', which lay beside Calla on the table. "Jane Austen, huh? I heard you grew up with muggles, like me. Is this your first time reading?"

Calla nodded, words getting stuck. "Hermione," she said quickly, to which Penelope frowned. Oh, God, What was she doing now? "I mean, my friend Hermione, she lent my her copy. To read." She lifted up the book, almost dropping it in her haste, and felt a prickling heat rise to her cheeks. "This is it."

Penelope looked like she was trying not to laugh. "So it is your first time reading, then?"

She nodded with vigour. Maybe too much vigour, as she all but hit her face off her shoulder. "Yeah. Yeah, it is. It's good though. Did you like it?"

"Loved it," Penelope smiled, "but I won't spoil what happens for ou."

She glanced up, and waved to some Hufflepuff girl Calla didn't recognise. "I've got to go now, Potter, but let me know when you finish it. You'll love it, I'm sure." She gave a conspiratorial wink. "There aren't enough people read muggle books in this castle. Glad to know you appreciate them, too."

In a whirlwind of smiles and sunshine, Penelope left, meeting her Hufflepuff friend at the doors, leaving Calla staring in her wake. God, she'd thought she'd been getting better at talking to people this year. She supposed not then, with a dejected slump.

Her mood was only improved upon half an hour later, when Harry entered the Great Hall, flanked by a tired looking Hermione and an annoyed looking Ron. She waved to them and Harry grinned, exchanging quick words with the Gryffindors before making his way over to Calla alone.

"Hi, Calla," he said, hopping from foot to foot. She turned to look up at him, eyebrows raised, and gestures to the empty space beside her. He sat down and ran a hand through his hair, causing Calla to frown. He was nervous.

"You okay, Harry?" she asked, curious. There was one thing he would likely be nervous about, and that was the discussion over his voices.

"Yeah," he said quickly. "Look, I think we need to talk. After last night, I guess I was shocked, and it made me realise I should have spoken to you about this earlier." He swallowed, tapping his hands on the table and then folding them in his lap. "I've been hearing voices. Voices no one else can hear."

"We can't talk about this here," Calla said, aware of The quickly filling up table, and Lisa and Mandy entering the hall. "Grab some toast or something and we'll find somewhere private to discuss it." She pressed her hand to the top of her bag, feeling around for the Marauder's Map. "Come on, I'll find somewhere."

It took all of about two minutes for Harry to wolf down a couple slices of toast, before the twins left the hall, Calla producing the map from her bag. "If we take this left," she murmured, up on the second floor, "there ought to be a secret little alcove here. I've only been once, but it's soundproof - tested it with one of those screaming books in the library that Pince is trying to get rid of."

"Why did you need to know if it was soundproof?" Harry asked, frowning over the rim of his glasses.

Calla shrugged, not able to come up with a proper answer. "I was curious. Most tapestries have a draught behind them, and you can hear them if you listen close, but I couldn't hear this. Wanted to know if the castle was just loud, or if it was magic."

"Oh."

Harry didn't press her any further, as her eyes latched onto the tapestry and she dragged him behind it to the 'alcove'. In truth, it was quite a large alcove, and Calla was sure it shouldn't exist by the laws of physics, but it did. That sentence, she realised, applied to a great number of things in the Wizarding World.

Gravity, for example, was hit over the head and knocked out by a broomstick.

She rested herself on a ledge on the right wall, crossing her ankles and patting the space beside her. With a nervous grin, Harry hopped up beside her, crossing his right foot over his other leg.

"So," Calla began for him, "voices?"

"Yeah." He tilted his head back, looking at the ceiling. "Voices." Harry sighed. "It started when I had my detention with Lockhart after the flying car incident."

Calla winced at the memory of that. "Yes."

"It was... weird. It wasn't a notmal voice, it was a sort of echo almost. It said-" he broke off, wincing -"it said it wanted to kill someone, same as I heard tonight. Rip, tear, kill." He shuddered, face pale and green eyes wide. Despite being a Gryffindor, he still looked terrified of what he'd heard. "It was horrible, Calla. It just sounded so... so cold. It was out for blood, and now it's got it."

She took in a shuddering, shaky breath, nodding. She reached out a hand to Harry, and he took it with a grateful, small smile. "Was the voice familiar?" she asked, quietly. "Did you recognise it from somewhere? And I still can't work out why no one else heard it."

"I... I don't know, Calla," Harry sighed. "It was sort of familiar, but in a weird way. Like, I didn't actually recognise it, but it still felt familiar." He scoffed, shaking his head and pummelling his heel into the hard stone wall. "I know it doesn't make a whole lot of sense, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Calla told him, resting her head on his shoulder. She felt his smile as he leaned towards her, side of his head resting on her. "I assume Ron and Hermione already knew?"

He sighed. "You're annoyed at me, aren't you?"

How awfully perceptive of him. "I'm not that annoyed," Calla tried, "but I do wish you'd told me before last night." And before you told Ron and Hermione, she wanted to add, but didn't.

"I didn't know how you'd take it," he said, voice solemn. "I mean, I couldn't keep it from Ron, and then he thought Hermione would have the best idea how to deal with it, but all we really managed to come up with was that hearing voices isn't good, even in the wizarding world." He shrugged, slightly jostling Calla's head. She narrowed her eyes, turning a little so he would feel her glare and he rolled her eyes, with a short chuckle. "Honestly, I didn't think you'd get it, and I didn't want you to... I didn't want you to judge me."

She almost laughed. "Judge you?" she asked, raisin her eyebrows. "Seriously, Harry?" She shifted away from her brother, turning so they could look one another in the eye. "Harry, really, you don't have to worry about that. First of all, we're wizards, judgement about abilities kind of went out the window last year. Second, I'm your sister, I'm not going to suddenly turn on you or judge you or anything just because you can hear weird voices. Third," she paused, not sure if she could go ahead with it, but supposed she had to, "I'm in no place to judge you for weird abilities right now."

Now, Harry frowned deeply, green eyes crackling with confusion and curiosity. "What do you mean? Don't tell me you can, like, see things no one else can."

Calla tried not to laugh. "You're kind of close there." His eyes bulged.

"What? You're seeing things?"

"Well," she considered, "I don't know if I'd say I'm seeing them so much as dreaming them."

"Dreaming them?" His mouth hung agape.

"Yeah." She shook her head, feeling a light draught come from the corridor as someone breezed past their tapestry. "It's like, I'm getting these visions, is what I'm calling them anyway. Sometimes I black out from them, like that time in the forest last year. Or sometimes it's just for a couple seconds and I'm just a bit out of it before the normal world comes back. It's weird. Happened last night, actually."

"But last year," Harry began, realisation dawning on him, "you told me to look out for a mirror. When we went to get the stone."

She nodded. "I saw it in my vision in the forest. It was totally a gamble to figure out if it would be real, but it was. Uncle Moony thinks I might be a Seer, he says I should talk to Professor Trelawney."

"You told Uncle Moony?" This time, Harry looked mildly offended, and a little taken aback.

Calla winced. She'd vowed to speak to Harry about the whole vision thing a long time ago, and really, she knew they ought to have had this conversation already. Rather than this situation occurring, in which Harry was confused and looking a bit offended - despite having kept his voices from Calla, too. It all could have been avoided.

"I had to," Calla told him, as softly as she could. "It was giving me headaches, I was blacking out, I had to talk to some adult and he was the first I thought of. I still don't understand how it works, and it's kind of hard to talk to you, because I want you to know everything, but I barely know anything right now."

There was a pause, before Harry spoke. "Right."

Both twins looked at each other in an awkward, confused silence for a moment, neither knowing quite what to say or quite how to say it. Then, Harry's lips quirked up at the edges and Calla found a smile spreading over her own face as they both let out snorts of laughter. "We're a mess, aren't we?" Calla chuckled, grinning.

"A bit, yeah." Harry grinned at her, holding out his hand to her. "But that's okay." He bit his lip. "So what have you been seeing lately? I mean, if you're okay to tell me, that is."

Calla smiled, a fond sense of relieved affection settling in her chest. "Well, last night it was really weird, and I don't know what to take from it. There were these spiders being chased by a cat, and there these yellow circles, I think they were eyes. And then the cat stopped and the spiders went away, which is a lot harder to figure out than most things." She pursed her lips, and Harry looked at her expectantly. "I also saw a bluffer break your arm."

His face fell. "What?"

"Yeah, it didn't look fun. Your arm was all floppy and stuff, so it was a pretty bad break."

"Floppy?" Harry looked faintly green now, and Calla felt a pang of guilt.

"I mean, it might not happen," she assured him hurriedly, though Harry didn't appear convinced. "Or I might have looked at it wrong, I don't know!"

"Do you know when it was?" Harry asked nervously. "Cause then I might be able to, I don't know, avoid the bludger or something, to make sure I don't get hit."

"Gryffindor versus Slytherin, I think," she supplied. "I mean, it was green and red, anyway, so I used those Ravenclaw powers of deduction." She smirked, and Harry laughed.

"Alright, Sherlock."

A surprised thrill went through Calla. "You read them!" she cried. She'd been trying to get her brother to read the Sherlock stories she'd loaned him for ages. "About time, too! What did you think?"

And like that, the conversation switched. Their previous fears and uncertainties were pushed behind them as they delved into discussion about Sherlock and Watson, Harry uncertain quite where he stood on Sherlock's character. Though Calla liked him, Harry thought he was a bit of an arse at times, which to be fair, Calla couldn't quite disagree with, though she had to point out that most everyone was a bit of an arse.

It felt good, to just talk simply with her brother, and she would have stayed there as long as she could had it not been for the mortifying growl of her stomach. She scowled, glancing at her watch. Harry peered over her shoulder, as the hour hand ticked past the one o'clock.

"We should probably get lunch," he pointed out, stating the obvious.

"Yeah," Calla chuckled, jumping down from the ledge and bringing Harry with her. She paused, loitering by the tapestry. "Could we keep all this between us? For now, anyway." Her cheeks flushed with heat, and she looked down at her feet. "I'm not sure I want anyone else to know yet. Don't know how to explain it."

"Of course," Harry replied, slinging a comforting arm around her shoulder. "I think I might tell Daphne and Padma about the voices, there's not way they didn't catch that last night." He chuckled, but without a whole lot of humour. "But other than that, yeah. Just the two of us."

Calla quirked up an eyebrow, holding out her little finger. "Pinkie promise?"

Harry chuckled, but agreed, hooking his finger with hers. "Pinkie promise."


	23. Ch22 - Curious Events

November 1st

 _Dear Uncle Moony,_

 _Something terrible has happened at Hogwarts. We don't know if you know of the caretaker Argus Filch, and his cat, but, well, Mrs Norris has been petrified. We all thought she was dead, but Professor Dumbledore told us all she's still alive, just petrified, and no one knows quite what to do. There was a message left on the wall where it happened, and it was written in blood. I (Harry) thought it must have been Mrs Norris' blood, but she wasn't actually bleeding, and Calla thinks it might have been the blood of whoever wrote it, but that doesn't make sense either, because I couldn't see anyone else who was bleeding, plus you'd think they'd have a way to trace the petrifier if that was the case._

 _We've also been having issues outside of that. I've been hearing voices, and heard it just before the petrification. It was talking about killing, tearing someone apart, and it was really, really horrible. Calla's been having visions too - she says she told you about them already, though - and one of them showed a cat and spiders, and these two big eyes, she says they were yellow. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense, why this is happening or anything, but we're trying to figure it out._

 _Oh, Calla's just reminded me I never told you what the writing said. It said that the chamber of secrets had been opened, whatever that is, and that the enemies of the heir were to beware. Apparently this has happened before - I don't suppose you heard anything like this during your time at Hogwarts, or came across a chamber of secrets. We can't see it on the map, but if we've missed it, or you just couldn't plot us, we really want to know._

 _According to Ron, his brother Bill's mentioned something about a secret chamber at Hogwarts, so he's going to try and find out more from him, and work out whatever we can from teachers and stuff. Any advice?_

 _All our love, Harry and Calla Potter_

 _PS from Calla: How are things with the moon? We don't want to add to your pressure, so please don't feel obligated to reply straight away if you can't, we'll see you at the Quidditch match anyway. Love you!_

It seemed the attack of Mrs Norris was all anyone could talk about for the next few days. Filch was near constantly pacing the floor on the first floor, where she'd been attacked, as if hoping that by wearing out the floorboards he could bring her back to him, or that the attacker would return and he could avenge his cat. Calla tried to avoid the corridor as much as she could, for every time she saw the message she felt a horrible cold feeling in the pit of her stomach, but the topic of the attack was unavoidable and really, she wanted to know the truth, needed to know it. Draco Malfoy's words kept repeating in her brain, hammering against her skull. You''ll be next, mudbloods.

Terry and Isobel were rarely seen alone without a Ravenclaw escort, usually either Lisa, Michael, or Mandy. They always shivered when they saw the message on the wall, and Isobel always walked faster when she went past it. Despite Mr Filch's attempts to scrub the message away, it still gleamed as ghastly as ever on the stone wall, and though Calla, Padma and Anthony had tried to vanish the words, nothing would get rid of them.

Calla tried to avoid him as much as she could, too. He skulked the halls with red eyes, snapping and lunging at any student who dared to so much as breathe in his presence, handing out detentions left right and centre.

Ron, upon discussion with Padma, Hermione, Calla, and Harry, had shared what he knew or could deduce about the attack. "I reckon Filch is a squib," he told the four of them as they sat by the edge of the lake, watching out for the giant squid. "What else would he need Kwikspell for? And anyone who doesn't like muggleborns is bound not to like squibs either, I think. They could have gone for Mrs Norris to get at Filch."

"But why, though?" was what Padma wanted to know. "What could anyone seek to get from attacking Mrs Norris, other than wanting to not get caught by her."

Calla didn't quite understand it either, though Ron seemed to think it obvious. "Some who obviously hates squibs and muggleborns. We all heard what Malfoy said, didn't we? Whoever's behind the attack has it out for them. Explains a lot about Filch though, nasty git."

"Ron!" Padma scolded sharply. "His cat just got petrified."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Still a git. Anyway, shouldn't laugh at squibs I know, even if it is Filch, that's what dad would say." he shrugged. "I've asked Bill what he knows about the chamber of secrets, by the way, but he's in Egypt right now. Could ask Charlie, I guess, but he's in Romania, and I'm sure it was Bill who told me about those secret chambers when we were younger."

"Either way," Hermione said, tossing out her hair. "I'd like to know what's going on."

Indeed, she had a book in front of her, this one about the hidden secrets of the wizarding world. She wasn't making much progress so far, but it was only a day after the attack. It made sense, of course, that she was concerned. She was always reading, but now more than ever, and among them, she was the most likely to be threatened by this 'heir'. The thought of Hermione meeting a similar fate to Mrs Norris honestly sickened Calla to the very bottom of her stomach.

Hermione wasn't the only one affected by the chamber of secrets business. Ginny Weasley was particularly disturbed, as according to Ron, she was a great lover of cats. No matter how many times Ron or Harry tried to assure her that Mrs Norris was horrible anyway, and that she didn't need to feel bad, she still cried, and her face was almost perpetually pale, lips trembling at every mention of the attack.

"They'll be expelled in no time once they catch them," Ron told Ginny one day, trying to calm her down. "You'll see. This stuff doesn't happen often at Hogwarts, it'll be alright."

Calla didn't want to remind either of them of the fact that a teacher had You-Know-Who growing out of his head all last year.

Daphne, too, had been quiet ever since the attack on Mrs Norris. More than quiet, really. It was like she shut down completely in the wake of the disaster, refusing to speak with her friends or join them when they worked on their essays for History of Magic. For the first few days, they all did their hardest to include her, to coax her out of the stifling silence, but she did nothing but sit there, sullen, reading or writing without a spoken word in between. A couple of times, Calla saw her walking and talking to her sister in the halls, or in the library bent over some parchment, but all her attempts at conversation sputtered out with a glare from Astoria.

Even though Calla didn't know what quite what either Daphne or Hermione were doing, she was soon to find out about the personal project that the latter had taken up.

She met Padma and Ron in the library to do their History of Magic, waiting impatiently for Harry to finish lunch. He'd managed to get himself into a detention with Snape, scraping tubeworms off of the desk. Lounging back on a chair with Padma, she caught sight of a group of Hufflepuffs - Zach, Justin, and Hannah - across the room. She grinned at Zach, giving a jaunty wave and sitting up straighter. She almost went to talk to them, quite bored of their unproductive study session, but stopped when she caught the pale, fear stricken eyes of Justin Finch-Fletchley. She frowned at Zach, tilting her head to the side, but he shook his head, turning his head back to his work.

"Do you know what's up with them?" she asked Padma, gesturing to the Hufflepuffs, who refused to look back at her.

Padma shook her head. "No idea." She looked across the room, narrowing her eyes. "Rude, though."

"Yeah."

At that moment, Justin stood up, making to leave the library and disappearing behind the shelves. A mere moment later, Harry came in, looking quite bemused as his eyes searched for them. When he finally arrived, he slumped down in his chair, frowning.

"What's up with you?" Padma asked, frowning.

"Medieval Assembly of European Wizards," Ron spoke out loud with a groan, answering for him. "I'm still eight inches short, can you believe it? Hermione's handwriting's tiny, but she's got four feet seven inches already, it's ridiculous."

"Where is Hermione?" Harry asked, ignoring Padma;s question. Calla felt her friend bristle next to her.

"Somewhere over there, I think," Calla said. "She's looking for a book."

"Trying to read the whole bloody library before Christmas, I reckon," Ron muttered.

"Right." Harry paused. "Saw Justin Finch-Fletchley on my way up here, but the way. About sprinted away the second he saw me."

"You're getting it, too?" Calla asked in surprise. "Thought it was just me they had a problem with."

"Dunno why either of you care," Ron told them, scribbling an extra few lines on his parchment, as large as he could manage. "I always thought Finch-Fletchley was a bit of an idiot, spouting all his rubbish about how Lockhart was so great-"

He was cut off as Hermione appeared from behind a bookshelf, lips pursed. At least, though, she seemed ready to talk to them. "All the copies of Hogwarts: A History, have been taken out," she told them, huffing as she sat down between Harry and Calla. There's a two week waiting list to check it out. I meant to make room for it in my trunk, I really should have, but what with all of those Lockhart books it just wouldn't fit."

"What do you want with it?" Harry asked, screwing his face up.

"Same as everyone else." She bit her lip. "I want to read up on the legend of the chamber of secrets."

"What's that?"

Padma scoffed at Ron, who glared back at her.

"That's just it," Hermione replied, ignoring their silent fight. "I can't quite remember it. And I can't find the story anywhere else."

"Well, why didn't you just say so?" Padma huffed, standing up abruptly. "I've got my copy sitting back in the Ravenclaw dorm, could have loaned it to you ages ago if you wanted a read."

"Hermione," Ron cut in, checking his watch, "let me read your composition."

"No," Hermione said sharply, "you've had ten days, that's quite enough time." Ron groaned. "Anyway, Padma," she continued, brightening, "could I get it from you after History of Magic?"

Padma shook her head, wincing. "Loaned it to Luna Lovegood in the year below us. Sorry."

Hermione groaned, though Ron took his moment to try again. "I only need another two inches, Mione, come on..."

The bell rang and they stood up sharply, Ron and Hermione bickering all the way out the door as Harry, Calla and Padma hung back. "You don't think you could get your book back off that Lovegood girl, could you?" Harry asked Padma, voice desperate. "Hermione's about to go spare."

"Ron's not helping," Calla pointed out, gesturing to the two arguing Gryffindors.

Harry nodded sadly. "You try staying in the same tower with them. Torture, I tell you."

The International Warlock Convention of 1289 was not Calla's favourite area of history. She sat back in her chair next to Harry, doodling absentmindedly on a piece of parchment, ink spilling over and soaking into the paper. Harry leaned his head on her shoulder, half asleep in the middle of Binns' lecture, even duller than usual. She would have continued to read along with his lecture, but she'd already read the chapter they were on, and had very little intentions of going over it.

Despite her feelings about 1289, Calla tried to at least seem like she was paying attention. It was rare for anyone to care about Binn's lectures, considering the most exciting thing to ever happen in his class was his entering through the blackboard. Calla wondered if Binns had even noticed he was dead, or if he had and simply didn't care. Really, you had to admire his dedication, if nothing else.

She looked down at her parchment, and scribbled under a drawing of a lily the name Arcturus Bundy, who apparently attended the convention, and promptly went back to drawing. Then, as she focused on the leaves and the shading of the stem, something happened which she was sure had never occurred before in Binn's class.

A hand went up in the air.

She turned in confusion, to see Hermione waving about, trying to get their teacher's attention. her jaw dropped, and she prodded Harry sharply in the side to wake him up, gesturing to Hermione. Binns faltered in the middle of his lecture, catching sight of his student. His eyes widened in amazement.

"Er, yes, Miss-"

"Granger, sir," Hermione said, straightening in her seat.

Behind her, Calla could hear Padma quietly whisper, "What?"

"Professor, I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets." Hermione continued, voice clear and sharp. Calla heard a grumble behind her from Ron as he came to, woken by Hermione's voice.

Around them, students shifted, breaking out of their stupor. Michael Corner's eyes widened as he lifted his head from the desk; Daphne jerked herself away from the window she was staring out of, and Parvati fumbled to wake up Lavender beside her.

Professor Binns merely blinked. When he spoke, it was in a dry, wheezy voice. "My subject," he began in a slow drone, "is History of Magic. Miss Granger, I deal with facts, not myths or legends." He cleared his throat, shaking his head and making to return to his lecture. "As I was saying, in September of that year-"

He was cut off abruptly, by Hermione waving her hand in the air again.

"Grant?"

"Granger, sir," Hermione corrected. "But don't all legends usually have a basis in facts?"

"Well," Professor Binns said slowly, frowning in amazement, "I suppose one could argue as such. However, the legend you speak of is such a ridiculous, nay, ludicrous tale..."

The whole class was now staring at binns with rapt attention, the likes of which Calla was sure he had never been paid before in either life or death.

"Oh," he said, thrown by such interest directed towards him, "very well, then, I suppose. Let's see, the Chamber of Secrets.

"As I am sure you all know, Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago, though the precise date is not certain, by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin, after whom the four school houses are named. They built this castle together, kept away from the eyes of muggles, who might fear magic in such an age, and who may have sought to persecute witches and wizards."

He paused for a moment, gazing around the room. "For some years, the four worked together in harmony, and sought out marvellous youngsters who showed signs of magic, bringing them to the castle to be educated. But it was not to last. Disagreements sprung up between them, and a rift grew between Slytherin and the others. He wanted to be more selective about who the four admitted to Hogwarts, believing that the learning of magic should be strictly kept only to all-magical families. He didn't want to take in students of muggle parentage, believing them untrustworthy - dangerous, even. After time, there came a serious argument over the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, resulting in Slytherin leaving the school."

He paused again, pursing his lips in deliberation. "We are told this much from reliable sources," he said, "but most of the honest facts have been obscured by the legend of the Chamber of Secrets. As the story goes, Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, without telling the other founders.

"According to the legend, Slytherin sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that no one would be able to open it until one of his own had arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all those whom he deemed unworthy to study magic."

Silence fell as he finished his story. Unlike the usual, drowsy feeling the usually smothered the classroom, thr air was filled with unease as the students continued to watch him anxiously, hoping for more of the story.

Looking faintly annoyed, Binns continued. "The whole thing is nonsense, obviously," he said. "Naturally, the school has been searched for evidence of the chamber many times, but it does not exist. It is nothing more or less than a tale told to frighten those who would be so gullible as to believe it.!

Hermione's hand shot back into the air, as did Daphne's. The latter looked around and flushed, lowering her hand as Hermione spoke up. "Sir, what exactly do you mean by the horror within the chamber?"

"It is belived to be a sort of monster, which the heir of Slytherin alone may control," the professor replied in a reedy voice. "I tell you," he continued, seeing the class' nervous glances at one another, "the thing does not exist. There is no chamber, and there is certainly no monster."

"But, sir," Seamus Finnigan piped up, "if the chamber can only be opened by Slytherin's true heir, no one else would be able to find it, would they?"

"Nonsense, O'Flaherty," Binns said, grinding out the words. "If a long succession of Hogwarts teachers haven't been able to find the thin-"

"But, Professor," Parvati said, "you'd probably have to use Dark Magic to open it-"

"Miss Pennyfeather, just because a wizard doesn't use Dark Magic, doesn't mean he can't," Binns snapped. "I repeat, if the likes of Dumbledore-"

"But what if you've got to be related to Slytherin?" Calla asked, question pressing.

"Yeah," Dean Thomas added, "then Dumbledore wouldn't be able to-"

"That will do," Professor Binns snapped, sharply. "It is a myth! It does not exist! There is not a single shred of evidence that even so much as a secret broom cupboard was built by Slytherin! I regret telling you this fool's tale! Now, if you please, return to history, to solid, believable, verifiable fact!"

Five minutes later, the class had returned to its stupor and Calla doodled more flowers on her parchment, thinking on Binns' words. At least she knew they had something right from what they'd guessed: the heir was Slytherin's, and he was out to get muggleborns. She snuck an uneasy glance at Hermione, who was pale faced and leaning sullenly back in her chair, hardly paying any attention. She looked down at her parchment and started doodling again.

"Knew old Slytherin was a loony," Ron said as the group of five, barring Daphne, made their way to the intersection between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor Towers to drop off their bags. "Didn't know he started all of this pureblood stuff though."

"Don't see why you could be surprised," Padma muttered, rolling her eyes. "They're all in on that nonsense, aren't they?"

"You couldn't put me in that house if you paid me," Ron said with great conviction, and Calla shot Harry a nervous glance. "I think if the hat had even tried to put me there, I would've just gotten the train straight back home."

Hermione and Padma gave fervent nods, but Harry paled a little, looking with wide eyes at Calla. She gave him a weak, hopefully reassuring half-smile, one which he perhaps tried to reciprocate, but failed anyway.

Calla knew Harry was yet to tell anyone but her that the Sorting Hat had seriously considered putting him in Slytherin, not even Uncle Moony. But he'd known of the house's reputation for turning out dark wizards, and despite being told that, yes, it could make him great, he had refused, asking to be placed in Gryffindor instead. She liked to avoid the fact that he'd been given a choice and still chosen a different house to her, and that she could have been in Gryffindor so easily, but wasn't.

As they were pushed along in the throng of students, Calla spotted a tiny Gryffindor first year clutching a camera, who turned to Harry.

"Hiya, Harry!" the boy chirped.

"Hello, Colin," Harry said in a dull voice, and Calla frowned at him.

"Listen, Harry - Harry a boy in my year has been telling people that you and your sister are - that you're-"

But little Colin was too little, it seemed, and got stuck in the tidal wave of students, swept along so all they could hear was his squeaked goodbye before he vanished from view. Calla frowned at her brother. "What was that about?" she asked.

Harry shrugged. "What d'you mean?"

"You sounded rude," she said shortly, mildly irritated at his confusion.

"Did I?" he asked with a frown. "I didn't realise."

She rolled her eyes. Of course not.

"What's a boy in his year saying about you two?" Hermione asked, before Calla could berate her brother further.

"That we're Slytherins heirs or something, I expect," Harry said gloomily, as Calla's stomach sank. It twisted in knots, as she recalled how Justin had avoided her gaze, how he'd ran away from Harry.

"People here will believe anything," Ron said in disgust, and Padma nodded.

"They just want someone to blame," Padma said with a scoff.

They started clambering up the next staircase, nearing the junction between the two towers.

"Do you think there really could be a chamber of secrets?" calla wondered aloud, not sure if she should believe it herself.

"I think it's entirely possible," Hermione said, tossing her hair. "After all, how many secret passages are on that map of Calla's? And Dumbledore couldn't cure Mrs Norris, so I think, well, it's possible that whatever attacked her might not be..."

She trailed off, and Padma finished for her. "Might not be quite human?"

Hermione nodded. "Yeah."

The group turned a corner, bringing them to the very corridor where the attack had taken place. The blood still stained the wall, ugly and jarring against the grey stone. The scene had barely changed since that fateful night, except Mrs Norris' limp body had disappeared, and there was a chair set up against the wall where the writing was.

"Filch has been keeping watch there," Ron said.

"Don't know where he is now," Padma added, looking around with a frown.

"Can't hurt to have a look around," Harry supposed, shrugging. He rolled up his sleeves and dropped his bag, getting down to his hands and knees, presumably to look for clues. Calla stared at him, before setting off on foot to look at the wall, examining and pressing the stones to see if any of them might give way.

"Scorch marks!" Harry cried, startling Calla and Padma beside her. "Look, here and here!"

"Come and look at this," said Hermione, beckoning the others over. "This is weird..."

Calla and Padma crossed the corridor to beside her, at the window next to the writing on the wall. She pointed at the window pane at the top. At least a dozen spiders scuttled along it, looking as though they could be fighting to slip through a jarring crack in the glass. A silver thread dangled through it - perhaps part of a web - and dangled, like they'd all scaled it in their haste to get outside.

"I've never seen spiders act like that before," Padma said with a sudder.

"Me neither," Harry said, as Hermione shook her head.

"It's weird." She frowned. "Have you, Ron?" There was no reply. "Ron?"

Calla turned at the same time as Harry, to see Ron standing a few feet away, pale faced and wide eyed, shuddering like he was fighting not to run. "What's up?" Harry asked, voice worried.

"I-" Ron stuttered out, "I - don't like - spiders," he said tensely, hands shaking a little.

"I didn't know that," Hermione said, looking at him in surprise. "You've used them for Potions and things, haven't you?"

"Yeah, when they're dead," he said, avoiding the window. "They move weird."

Hermione giggled, and Padma shot her a look. "It's not funny," Ron said fiercely. "It's not my fault, when I was little Fred turned my teddy bear into a massive spider, because I broke his toy broom. You wouldn't like them either if it had been you holding your bear when it suddenly had six too many legs and..."

He broke off with a shudder, while Hermione attempted not to laugh. Calla and Harry caught each other's eyes, suspecting it would be a good idea to move away from the subject. She herself felt rather uncomfortable, stomach twisting and nausea rising within her throat when she looked at the spiders.

There was no cat, as there had been in her vision, but there were spiders, and that unsettled her. Given that they were in almost the exact place where Mrs Norris had been attacked, she felt sure it was connected and, she realised, that cat could very well be Mrs Norris, or representative of her at least. Was that possible? Most of her visions had been literal before, but could they be symbolic too, was that even a possibility? Questions swirled in her head, but she was jerked from her thoughts by Harry, who tugged her over to where the others stood by the entrance to the girl's toilet with the 'Out of Order' sign.

She frowned as they went inside. It had to be Moaning Myrtle's toilet, didn't it?

Paying no heed to the out of order sign, Hermione pushed open the door, revealing perhaps the gloomiest place Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had to offer. It beat out even the dungeons, and Snape's classroom. That was saying something.

The sinks were chipped, the mirrors cracked, and cobwebs hung from each corner. Water rushed in the pipes, plumbing rumbling along. And behind it, fitting in to the eerie background noise, was the quiet, muffled sound of Myrtle sobbing.

Calla exchanged a glance with Harry, who nodded. She stepped forward nervously, feet too loud on the floor. "Who's there?" asked a thick, sharp voice. "Someone come to laugh at me?"

"It's just me, Myrtle," Calla said, in the kindest voice she could manage. Myrtle had always preferred Ravenclaw girls to any other house, even if she couldn't really be said to like anyone in particular. "Calla Potter. I'm here with my friends, we'd like to talk to you."

There was a pause, a moment of silence, before a silvery wisp came from within a cubicle and Myrtle floated out, eyes round and watery. "Hello," she said, eyes narrowing and words biting out in spite. She focused in on Ron and Harry and sneered. "This is the girl's bathroom. You don't look much like girls to me."

"We've come to speak to you," Harry told her cheerfully. "A cat was petrified just outside your door on Halloween, we wanted to know if you'd seen anything suspicious."

"I didn't see anything," Myrtle said in a nasal, high voice. "I was in here all night after horrible Peeves was horrible to me." Her lip wobbled and Calla made to try and comfort her, but she let out a wail of anguish and swooped away, sobbing.

"But surely you must have seen something!" Ron cried out, making to go after her.

Padma held him back. "Don't," she said. "You'll upset her."

But it was too late for that, Myrtle had vanished out of sight and was sobbing, grossly, wetly, and loudly in a nearby stall. "Come on," Padma sighed, as they stood listening to her sobs. "We're not getting anything more out of her, not today."

They sighed, but couldn't disagree. Calla linked her arm with Harry's as they turned around, making their way out the bathroom. "That was gloomy," Harry said to her, in a quiet voice.

"That was Myrtle."

He let out a low chuckle as they opened the door, stepping out into a corridor, but a loud, boom in voice made all five of them jump. "Ron!"

They startled, turning around to see Percy Weasley striding down the corridor, frowning deeply at them. "What are you doing here?"

He fumbled, tips of his ears turning red. "Going to Gryffindor Tower?"

Percy stopped a few feet away, glaring at him. "That was the girls' bathroom."

His cheeks flushed. "Was it?"

"Yes." Percy narrowed his eyes. "What were you doing in there, Ron?"

"I, er got lost."

"Is that so?" He glared. "Get away from here, Ron. Do you have any idea what this looks like, the lot of you coming back here while everyone else is at diner?" He turned on Harry and Calla, fuming. "Do you know what people are saying about you? Everyone's thoroughly excited about all of this chamber of secrets business, especially the first years, poor Ginny's worried sick!"

"Don't pretend you care about me and Ginny," Ron hissed back, furious. Calla stared at him, not knowing quite what to think. She'd never seen Ron quite so angry, especially not at one of his own family. "You just care about how this looks for you, if it's going to stop you from becoming Head Boy!"

Percy went bright red and began flapping his hands like a great bird, attempting to herd them all back down the corridor - never mind that they still had to get to their respective towers. "Five points from Gryffindor, Ronald!" he was shouting, furious. "For your insolence."

Ron turned around, spitting fire. "You're taking points from me now! I'm your brother, we're in the same house, are you mad?"

"Go, now!" Percy shouted. "And don't let me see the five of you up here again, or I'll tell Professor McGonagall myself!"

After that, they stayed away from the corridor outside Myrtle's bathroom. Calla was glad of it, really, seeing as she didn't have to see the bone chilling writing anymore, but it still haunted her, and the spiders still crowded her mind.

For a while, Hermione went quiet again, reading up on anything and everything she could. Daphne, of course, was silent, though now at least she would give Calla the occasional wave as they passed one another in the corridors. She almost always had some Slytherin with her, usually either Astoria, Draco Malfoy, or Pansy Parkinson.

Calla would smile back, pretending like it didn't hurt and twist her stomach to realise that she was losing Daphne again. She was perhaps her first real, true friend outside of Harry, and it hurt to know that she wasn't as important to Daphne as Daphne was to her. And despite the tension between them, and between the rest of their little group, Calla couldn't bring herself to dislike Daphne for it, something which infuriated her. She didn't even know why, she just couldn't do it. All she was capable of feeling, it seemed, was an unquestionable feeling of loss, which ate her up inside every day and every night when she looked over at Daphne's bed and found it empty yet again.


	24. Ch23 - The Rogue Bludger

It was only a few days later, of course, that the group of five decided to jump back into their investigation. Calla had met an exhausted Harry fresh from his Quidditch practice and walked him up to the library to work on their essay for Transfiguration, which Calla was not looking forward to. Of course, it wasn't the essay that bothered her, but the fact that they would soon have to put the spell into practice, and turn a porcupine into a pin cushion.

So, when she slumped into a chair in the library next to her brother, she was willing to do pretty much anything but her homework. Ron gripped his wand with white knuckles, and looked over at Calla, sighing. He slammed his textbook shut, making her jump, as Padma raised her eyebrows.

"What's up with you?" she asked, frowning.

"Wand's busted," he muttered.

Hermione shook her head, closing her copy of the Standard Book Of Spells in a much more elegant manner than Ron had. "Doesn't matter, anyway," she said, surprising them all. "We've got more important things to worry about than homework."

Calla almost choked. "Hermione Granger, says there are more important things to worry about than homework?"

Hermione glared at her. "You're very funny, Calla. And yes, actually, I do." She leaned closer to them, in a conspiratorial manner. "The chamber of secrets."

There were murmurs of agreement, and Calla found she had to agree too. The whole school had been on edge recently because of it, and she herself was beginning to grow nervous with all the odd glances thrown her direction.

"We need to know who the heir is," Ron said, quite confidently. "Whoever they are, they've got to be stopped."

"But who can it be?" Hermione whispered, glancing around nervously. "Who on earth would want all the muggleborns out of Hogwarts?"

"Let's see," Ron said, voice heated. "Who do we know who thinks all muggleborns are scum?"

Hermione paled. "If you're talking about Malfoy-"

"Oh, come on, Hermione," Harry sighed, and Calla gave him a sharp look. "You heard what he said, and how he's spoken to people in the past."

"He's horrible," Padma said, "you can't defend him."

"The Malfoys have been in Slytherin house for generations," Ron told them. "They're proud of it."

"But, really?" Hermione looked at them disapprovingly. "Malfoy, as the heir of Slytherin?" She shook her head. "No, I don't believe it."

"You should," Padma told her. "His father's definitely evil enough, just look at him. He hates muggleborns, and he hates anyone who isn't his idea of how a proper wizard should be." She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "My parents have heard enough of his opinions in the past to know exactly what he's capable."

"Yeah, but how could Malfoy do it?" calla wanted to know. Heads swivelled to her and she flushed. "Well, he's the same age as us, isn't he? Petrification must be really complex magic, especially if Dumbledore can't even reverse it. How could he manage it?"

"Maybe he didn't need to do anything except open it!" Ron suggested, with great and possibly uneccessary excitement. "If there's a monster inside, maybe he just needed to let inside. They could have a key to the chamber, passed it down for generations, father to son."

"Well," Hermione said, considering the idea. "I suppose it could be possible."

Calla groaned. There was no way she could believe that a twelve year old was capable of petrifying, and really, it didn't make much sense that Malfoy had done it and nobody knew about it. He boasted about everything: it was his way of living.

"We'd need to prove it," Calla told them, before anyone could get deeper into accusations. "I won't believe he's done it unless we have evidence, evidence which I don't think really exists."

"There might be a way," Hermione said lowly. "It would be difficult, though, and very, very dangerous. I expect we would be breaking at least fifty school rules."

"Do you mind actually explaining?" Ron asked irritably.

Hermione bristled and looked at Ron coldly. "Alright, then. We'd need to get into the Slytherin common room and ask Malfoy ourselves, but without him realising that it's us."

"With all due respect, Hermione," Padma began, "that's impossible. malfoy'd never tell us anything, would he?"

"But he wouldn't be telling us," Hermione said, eyes lit up with excited fire. "All we'd need is Polyjuice Potion."

"Sorry, what potion?"

"Polyjuice Potion." Hermione grinned. "Remember, Snape mentioned it in class a few weeks ago. It transforms you into someone else. All we'd need to do is transform into some of the Slytherins, and ask Malfoy, he'd spill everything. I think we should definitely go for Crabbe and Goyle, he tells them about everything. I reckon he's boasting all about it in the common room right now, if only we could hear him."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, Hermione," Padma said, looking troubled.

"Yeah, I think it sounds a bit dodgy," Ron put in. "Imagine if we stayed like the Slytherins forever." He gave an exaggerated shudder, making Padma, calla, and Harry laugh while Hermione glared at them, rolling her eyes.

"It wears off after a bit," she said, "but getting hold of the recipe might be a tad tricky. Snape said it was in Moste Potente Potions, but it's all the way in the Restricted Section."

All five of them glanced over to the darkest section of the library, sealed with a lock and metal portcullis. "Don't all look now," Hermione hissed.

"We'd need a sign note from a teacher though, remember?" Calla pointed out. "Snape wouldn't let us, neither would anyone I don't think. What teacher would let a group of twelve year olds check out a book like that?"

Harry grinned as he turned to her, and she felt unease settle in her gut. "You could convince someone," he told her with pleading eyes. "All the teachers love you."

She rolled her eyes. "They feel sorry for me. There's a difference, Harry."

"Well," Hermione interjected, "a teacher needn't know why we need the book, not necessarily. We could just say that we're interested in the theory - or rather, that you're interested in the theory, Calla." She rolled her eyes, as did Ron.

"Come on," he huffed. "No teacher'll fall for that, even if it is Calla who does the asking. They'd have to be really, really thick."

Gilderoy Lockhart was, in Ron's words, really, really thick.

Ever since the notorious Cornish pixies incident in Harry's class, Lockhart hadn't brought any creatures to class, and resorted to merely reading stories from his own books. It might have been interesting, were it not for the fact that Calla thought he was probably lying or exaggerating about most of it, and that she seriously despised how he portrayed the werewolves in _Wanderings with Werewolves_. According to Harry, he'd been forced to take part in re-enacting some scenes, as Calla had too. Between the two of them, they'd portrayed a yeti with a head cold, a babbling Transylvanian villager, a ghoul with dragon pox, a one eyed troll, and a vampire who could eat only lettuce.

It was the day after they'd decided to start brewing Polyjuice Potion that he called Calla up to play a hungry, wicked werewolf.

"Miss Potter?" he repeated, when she refused to answer him, and merely glared. "Can you come up here, please?"

She hadn't bothered to open her book to read along with this class. In her browsing, she'd already read enough about how werewolves were inherently vile, mentally disturbed creatures. Gilderoy Lockhart believed that werewolves, all werewolves, ought to be rounded up and taken to Azkaban, for fear of what they might do. "No," she said. She knew she had to get into Lockhart's good graces, and Padma by her side prodded her to just get on with it - she'd done everything else - but she couldn't quell the anger inside of her. There was no way she was going to give credibility to Lockhart's claims and ideas of what werewolves were like, not when he probably had never even met one. Either way, he'd certainly never met her godfather.

"Miss Potter, I am asking you as your teacher, to help me entertain the class."

"Entertain?" she asked, astounded. "You're a teacher, not a performer. I won't do it."

His face was slowly turning purple, but she refused to budge. Everyone in the class was staring at her now, as she realised it was possibly the most some of them had ever heard her speak before. "Miss Potter, the portrayal of my takedown of the werewolf is vital to the education of your fellow students, and to yourself."

"Sorry," she replied with a scowl. "But I don't think you know how to educate anybody, Professor."

"Calla, just do it," Padma hissed from beside her, clutching her arm. Calla shook her off, perhaps a bit more violent than was necessary. "You're supposed to get in his good graces."

She ignored her friend. "Professor, tell me, have you ever actually met a werewolf, or do you just like to play into the false, scaremongering stereotypes around them?"

"Miss Potter, what exactly are you implying?" Lockhart's eyes were dangerously angry now. "I tell you, my adventures in Wanderings with a Werewolf are quite true, despite how terrifying I know these creatures must seem. Now, if you please, get up here and assist me."

"No."

He faltered, and Calla heard Daphne suck in a breath. "Miss Potter, I am your teacher, now get up here."

"No," she said, getting to her feet. "You are a liar, and a bigot, spreading tall tales about werewolves. I've read what you have to say about them and, quite frankly, it is sickening, it's vile, and it's gross!"

"How dare you speak to me in this way?" Lockhart asked, voice dangerously low. "You are a child, I am the esteemed author of some of the most popular novels on fighting dark creatures. I have written Wanderings with Werewolves, Break with a Banshee, and Holidays with Hags, to name but a few!"

"I don't care," she replied, voice venomous. "I'm not going to pretend to believe what you think about werewolves, and I'm not going to pretend to believe that you are a credible source of any information."

his face turned purple as he drew himself up to full height. "Get out of my classroom, miss Potter," he said, voice scarily even. "Go to your head of house, and don't come back until you have some rational thought in your head."

"Fine," she muttered. "If believing your every stupid word is your idea of rational thought, then I suppose I won't bother returning."

And with that, she scooped all of her supplies into her bag, slung it onto her shoulder and stalked out of the classroom, without looking back.

Now, this did present a problem, considering that there was now an even slimmer chance of them getting their hands of Moste Potente Potions, but at that moment, Calla couldn't care less. She made her way towards Professor Flitwick's office, face heated and burning in anger, hands clenched into tight fists which swung at her sides. Her shoes thumped on the ground as she rushed through the halls, ignoring the stares of the few students who were on free periods, and cane to a stop outside Professor Flitwick's office.

She knocked twice and stood back, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. The door swung open and she looked down to see Professor Flitwick staring up at her, looking rather bemused.

"Miss Potter," He squeaked, "oughtn't you to be in Professor Lockhart's class right now?"

"I, er..." She fidgeted with her satchel, hopping from foot to foot. "I sort of got sent out." Professor Flitwick raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "I have a good reason, though, Professor!"

He sighed. "Very well, Miss Potter. Come in and sit down. I suppose we ought to have a chat about this."

She went into the office, anger melting away and giving way to nerves as she sat down opposite Flitwick. He mounted himself upon the stack of books on his chair, so they were eye to eye, and gave her a look that fell somewhere between disapproval and concern.

"What happened, Miss Potter?" he asked, not unkindly.

"Lockhart - Sorry, Professor Lockhart - keeps wanting me to help him re enact scenes from his books, seeing as he doesn't like to actually teach us anything in his class." The words were bitter, but she didn't care, and Professor Flitwick did nothing to correct her tone. "Usually, I just get on with it, even if he is annoying, but today he wanted me to act like a werewolf." She looked to Flitwick, trying to gauge his reaction, and he nodded in understanding.

"Your godfather is Remus Lupin, correct?" he asked, and she nodded, sighing a little in relief. Flitwick, clearly, knew the situation, and she couldn't have been more relieved. Had it been Snape as her head of house, she was sure this conversation would be very different.

"I know Lockhart's views on werewolves, and I think them repulsive," she bit out. "I wasn't going to assist his so-called teaching and make it look like I was backing him up. Professor Flitwick, I'm sorry, but I couldn't just do that. I told him no, but he insisted." She gritted her teeth in fury at the memory. "So I called him a liar."

"A liar?" Professor Flitwick repeated, looking like he was suppressing a giggle. "Professor Lockhart?"

"I don't believe he really did what he claims to," she said. "Not after how incompetent he was with the pixies in Harry's class. He's arrogant too, and he annoys everyone, sir, do you know how many times he's made my brother late for class because he wants to educate him on how to be a celebrity? Harry doesn't even want fame, but Lockhart seems to want any bit of it he can get." Frustration welled up in her chest again, and she gripped her satchel tighter. "He says I'm to go back when I'm feeling like being rational."

"I see." Professor Flitwick gave her a knowing look. "Miss Potter, I do not like to compare you to your parents, for I know you are a different person to them." She tensed. "But I knew your mother well, and I believe she would have acted in much the same way as you did in this situation, as would many. I will not punish you for standing up for your beliefs, however I do ask that if there is a next time, you try not to call Lockhart our on his lying."

Her eyebrows shit up, and surprise went through her. "You think he's lying, too?"

"Miss Potter, I know he is lying." Her eyes bulged, and she wasn't sure she heard him quite right. "But you didn't hear that from me."

"Of course not, Professor." She shook her head.

"Then we understand one another. You may return to class if you wish, but as it is the end of the day, I will allow you to return to Ravenclaw Tower or the Library to study for another subject."

"Sir," she asked, before she could stop, "Do I have to keep going to Defense?" She knew it might have sounded whiny, and she knew she needed to get her grades up, but it wasn't like Lockhart was going to help her with that anyway. "We don't even learn anything, really, and I won't pretend to agree with Lockhart for so many hours when I could be working on a subject that isn't a total farce."

She knew she was perhaps getting a bit too casual in her opinion, but frankly, she didn't care. Calla wasn't sure what had just come over her, but it was definitely angry, and it was definitely bold, and it didn't want to lie down.

"I ask that you go to your next lesson of Defense Against the Dark Arts," Flitwick said slowly. "But, if you truly feel it is a waste of your time after that, and feel your time would be put to better use in other studies, then I will see what I can do." His eyes twinkled. "Now, you have half an hour before lessons end. I suggest you take time to cool down a little, and see if there is anything you can practice with this time." Professor Flitwick smiled at her, and Calla nodded back.

"Thank you, Professor," she said gratefully, standing up. "Have a nice day."

"You got kicked out of class?" Harry, Ron and Hermione cried in unison as they met her and Padma on their way to dinner. Hermione looked at her disapprovingly, while Ron grinned and Harry looked torn between the two.

"Yeah," she said meekly, not quite ashamed of it yet.

"I've never seen a teacher so angry," Padma said with a touch of glee, having gotten over her infatuation lately, "not even Snape that time Mandy's potion covered him in gold glitter. It was sort of brilliant."

"Thanks," Calla said with a short, awkward chuckle.

"I really don't think you should have argued with Lockhart, Calla," Hermione told her in a disapproving tone. "He's really a very interesting person, we could learn a lot from him."

Harry turned to stare at her, incredulously. "Hermione, he's useless. All he does is tell stories."

"Well, I happen to think they're good stories," she said primly, cheeks flushing pink. "And anyway, we needed him on our side to get the book, remember? He'll never give it to you now, not until you apologise."

"I'm not going to apologise, Hermione," Calla said irritably. "He doesn't deserve it, and I don't care. We can find some other way to prove if Malfoy's guilty or not."

Hermione looked at her slack jawed. "What do you mean you're not going to apologise?" she hissed. "From what I heard, you were very rude to him."

"Yeah, well, he's annoying," Calla said, brushing it off. "And Flitwick says he's a liar, too, so there, we're not the only ones."

"I don't quite think it's fair to-"

"Leave it, 'Mione," Harry interjected tiredly, putting an arm around Calla's shoulders. "Personally, I think it's brilliant, and we'll find another way to get it out of Malfoy. Right?"

"Seconded," Ron agreed, grinning. "Besides, one of us can still ask him, can't we? Just don't mention Calla, he might get a bit heated."

They laughed, apart from Hermione, and the matter was dissolved as they ventured down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

xxxxx

The morning of the Gryffindor and Slytherin match dawned bright, crisp, and early, sun streaming through the curtains to wake up the groggy Ravenclaw girl's dorm. Calla groaned as she rolled over, shielding her eyes from the harsh light. She was tired this morning, having had to stay up later than she liked last night to work on the Polyjuice Potion with her friends. According to Harry, Lockhart had barely looked at the name of the book he'd asked to take out of the library, and it was all too easy for them to get their hands on the copy of Moste Potente Potions.

It was to take around a month for the potion to brew, a fact which Ron had protested most furiously, but there was nothing that could be done to speed up the process unless they wanted it to go horribly wrong.

"Come on, Potter," Lisa chirped, more cheerful than she had any right to be at this hour. "Quidditch today, can't you wait to see Malfoy knocked off his arse by your brother?" Now, that was something Calla couldn't say she didn't want to see.

She rolled over and out of her bed, standing up straight. At least she'd get to see Uncle Moony today, even if she was exhausted, and the thought perked her up considerably. She got ready as quick as she could, as both she and Padma donned their honourary Gryffindor scarves for the occasion and set off down to the Great Hall, where Harry picked at his breakfast. Rolling her eyes with a huff, Calla made to join him at the Gryffindor table, wrapping a comforting arm around his shoulders.

"I take it you're nervous?" she asked him, taking a slice of toast.

Harry nodded, face a pale green shade. "Their brooms are so fast, Calla," he said, a little numbly. "Like, really fast."

"They're racing brooms," Padma said, with an air of superiority. The group turned to her, Calla and Ron both sighing. Really, that was not the best thing to say. She stared, as though there was something she had to say that was obvious, and shook her head. "They're not designed for Quidditch and sharp corners. You don't have to be faster, just better." When no one said anything, she sighed. "Really, you couldn't do more research about the broom?"

"I..." Harry fumbled over his words, so Ron spoke for him.

"We didn't really think it was necessary."

Padma sighed. "Of course you didn't." She gave an over-dramatic huff and flopped down onto Calla's shoulder. "Gryffindors, eh? Can't take the logical approach to anything, can they?"

"I would have," Hermione piped up in her defence. "But brooms aren't all that exciting."

Calla pointed at her with her bit of toast. "Agreed."

"Oi, Harry," called Fred Weasley from the other side of the table, standing up in full Quidditch gear. "It's time to go."

Harry paled, and turned to Calla, looking like he might be sick. She gave him a smile that she hoped looked more confident than she felt. "Good luck," she said, wrapping him in a quick hug. "You'll do brilliant, I'm sure of it."

Calla's assurances appeared to ease him, and she wondered if he thought she knew how the match would turn out. Well, technically she did, but it wasn't 'brilliant'. "Thanks, Cal," he said, releasing her. "I'll see you later, yeah?"

It was around a quarter of an hour later when the four of them - Ron, Calla, Hermione and Padma - set off down to the Quidditch Pitch, searching for the best seats. By that time, clouds had appeared, and it was startling to drizzle on rain, not a good omen if you asked Calla.

Ron shrugged. "I don't know, I think he must be, but he set off early before we all woke up. The Slytherins have got the fastest brooms gold can buy, and from the sounds of it all our team are worried we'll be outflown." He took a bite of his toast, chewing it off. "He'll be alright, though, he always is. Youngest seeker in a century, and miles better than Malfoy'll ever be."

"Yes, Ron," Hermione said irritably from his other side, "we know."

There came a great, sudden roar of noise from around the stand and calla peered over the edge to see the two teams arriving onto the pitch, red and green both clutching their brooms tightly in their fists. Madam Hooch blew her whistle as Wood and Flint shook hands and the players rose up in the air, the crowd cheering and egging them on with much eagerness, desperate for the excitement of it all, clinging to it in fact. Calla smiled and watched the match play out, though she was unable to avoid the hint of unease that scrambled her stomach. She'd seen an accident, had seen Harry getting hurt, and it hit her like a brick wall, the terror and realisation that somehow, she had forgotten.

But she couldn't do much other than keep a keen eye on Harry, not without knowing what was actually going to happen. She squinted, trying to make out distinct shapes and faces between the blurs of colours sweeping across the sky. Harry had been right when he told her his worries about Slytherin. Their brooms were fast, faster than Harry's and easily outpacing the Weasley twins' Cleansweeps.

Calla squinted at the pitch, trying to make out any golden glint that could be the Snitch, though there was nothing she could see. Once, she thought she saw something strange near the edge of the pitch, but by the time she focused on it, it was gone, and certainly not the snitch. Besides, now she had something else to worry about, as a coal coloured ball came barrelling through the clouds and straight towards her brother.

"Harry!" she shrieked, heart dropping to the pit of her stomach.

His head turned towards her, just a little, as he dove out of the way. The bludger grazed the top of his hair, and he swooped towards the ground. Calla breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived as Padma elbowed her in the side.

"That bludger came out of nowhere," she said, frowning. "It was heading right for Oliver before it switched directions."

Calla nodded, not sure why it was important. "That's what they do, right? I thought the bludgers' purpose was to take out players."

"Not specific ones, though," Padma told her. "Look, there it goes again, right for Harry."

Calla frowned as she looked up in the direction where Padma was pointing. Indeed, the bludger was headed back to Harry, despite being far closer in proximity to Marcus Flint. At that moment, the heavens opened, rain lashing onto Calla's cheeks as she squinted, trying to make out Harry's form.

George Weasley swooped onto the scene, batting the bludger away with what must have been all the force he could muster, but after a bare few seconds it came whirring back. Calla thought she saw one of the chaser girls yell something to Harry, as he floated in the air opposite Malfoy, having done a nifty barrel roll.

He nodded and shot off, Malfoy on his tail. The bludger followed. "What's he doing?" Calla muttered, staring.

"Bludger might hit Malfoy," Ron suggested, from beside her.

"Or it could hit him," Padma hissed back. "We have to do something!"

"We can't," Hermione said, cutting him off with a sharp look. "Any spell we try could end up hitting Harry instead, and no, Ronald, you are not getting to use that wand anywhere near me."

The tips of Ron's ears went red as he stowed his wand away. Calla's eyes returned to the pitch, where both the bludger and Malfoy were whirring after Harry, unrelenting. "The bludger's rigged," she decided, narrowing her eyes in disgust. "Someone's jinxed it to follow Harry, i'm sure."

"Bet it was Malfoy," Ron muttered, but Calla was already on her way downstairs, legs moving almost of their own accord.

There was only one way to get rid of the rogue bludger, and that was to call off the match to have it destroyed. Maybe Harry wouldn't want to stop, but there was no way she was going to let him get seriously injured all for the sake of a few house points. "Where are you going?" Hermione shouted after her, but she ignored her, losing sight of Harry as she raced down the twisting, rickety wooden stairwell.

She came out at the bottom, hearing a roar from the crowd and paused for only one second before continuing on, trying to recall where the opening to the pitch was. Gripping her wand, she raced forward, only to leap out the way as something golden flashed before her, quickly followed by Malfoy and then Harry, hardly a foot behind him. And then, of course, came the bludger. Her eyes widened as terror slammed into her, and she froze, running through spells in her head, though no ideas came to her. The bludger was an inch away from her face when she finally dove out of the way, crashing into the wooden walls of the stadium.

She sprinted in the direction they'd came, over the floor until she saw the glimmer of light ahead. She moved towards it, eyes scanning for Madam Hooch, just in time for her to see the bludger hit the end of Harry's broom. He toppled forwards, hands outstretched, and landing hard on his right arm. She could almost hear the ghastly crunch, and cringed as he made impact.

Then, of course, came the magic words. "Harry Potter has caught the Snitch!" rang around the stadium, as students cheered.

Calla sprinted forwards, out onto the pitch as a groggy Harry stirred on the grass. "Harry!" she shouted on instinct, fear gripping her at the paleness of his face. Oh no, oh no, oh no. What if he was hurt? Ugh. She should have acted ages ago, should have made sure he was okay, what if he'd broken a bone, what if he was concussed or about to be unconscious, he certainly looked pale enough.

She propelled herself forward to kneel by his side, panting furiously. "Oh my God, are you alright, what happened, did it hit you?"

He smiled dopily and uncurled his fist, to show the gleaming golden ball. "I caught the snitch, Calla."

She huffed. "That's not what I asked, Harry."

She didn't get a proper answer from him, as her brother chose that precise moment to faint. So that was brilliant.

Footsteps thundered behind him, people rushing down to see if Harry was okay. Hermione led the charge, Ron and Padma sprinting behind her as Uncle Moony came from the other direction, Professor Lockhart running with him, lavender robes swirling.

"What happened?" Hermione cried, stumbling to kneel beside Calla. "Has he fainted?"

"I - I think so," she said, as Uncle Moony came to her side.

"That bludger's been tampered with," he told her, brow furrowed. There was a firm, furious set to his jaw. "Calla, you must tell me, is there anyone you think would have reason to target Harry?"

"Only every Slytherin in the castle," Ron said, having arrived at their side. "Bet it was Malfoy."

Uncle Moony gave him a calculating, stern look. "I'm not sure we've truly made one another's acquaintances yet. I assume you're Ron?"

"Weasley, sir."

"I imagined so. Now, we can't know for definite, but I'll bring this to McGonagall's notice. If it was Malfoy, she'll want to know. As for Harry himself, we ought to get him to Madam Pomfrey."

"No need!" Lockhart declared in a pompous voice, as Calla hid a grimace. For a blissful moment, she'd forgotten about his presence. "It appears the boy has been placed in a coma, due to shock, however-"

At that moment, Harry stirred, bleary eyed and stared at Lockhart. His face fell into disgust. "Not you again," he groaned.

"Harry!" Calla cried, lunging to wrap him in a hug. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just..." He groaned. "My arm feels like it's on fire."

Calla immediately moved away, feared to put more pressure on it which could hurt him, and Lockhart took that opportunity to strike. "As I was saying," he began, "the boy clearly has a broken bone." calla rolled her eyes. "But never fear, Harry, for will fix your arm."

"No!" Harry and Calla shouted at the same time.

"I'd rather keep it like this, thanks," Harry muttered. "Why can't I just go to the Hospital Wing?"

"He really should be seen to by Madam Pomfrey," Uncle Moony agreed, glaring at Lockhart.

"Stand back," Lockhart said, ushering everyone else away and ignoring their protests. He rolled up his sleeves as Calla found herself shoved to one side quite ungracefully, where she glared from a distance, wishing dearly that she was close enough to hit him. Before any rational person could stop him, he had directed his wand at Harry's arm and whispered an incantation.

Calla gasped as she saw what happened, the forearm slowly beginning to go limp and flop about from the elbow joint. His wrist, when he moved, flopped over and bent back on itself, making a sickening sound as the back of the hand hit the empty skin of his arm. She wasn't sure how she managed not to throw up, but she certainly gagged, the sight quite disgusting to behold.

"You idiot," Uncle Moony was hissing at Lockhart. "I said he ought to see Madam Pomfrey to get his bones fixed."

"Well, the bones aren't broken anymore," Lockhart offered weakly, and Calla turned back just in time to see Uncle Moony, normally so level headed, begin to turn a rather furious shade of red.

"There aren't any bones left!" he cried, clenching his fists. "Now, you will stay away from Harry, and from Calla, and you will not attempt to 'mend' their bones again, until you learn how to use that wand at least like a semi-decent wizard and not a complete imbecile. Am I making myself clear?"

Calla and Harry exchanged astonished glances at Uncle Moony's outburst, as he stood still glaring at Lockhart, who moved meekly to the side. "Come on now, Harry," Uncle Moony said, ignoring the stares he was getting. "Let's take you up to a professional."

xxxx

Calla and Uncle Moony glared at Dumbledore and Lockhart, faces matching in fury. "How on earth could you let this fool in to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Uncle Moony hissed, gaze focused on his old headmaster, who looked quite unamused. "Clearly, he isn't even capable of mending a broken bone, instead vanishing it completely! It's ridiculous, Dumbledore."

"Mr Lupin," Professor Dumbledore said, voice gentle. "Might you sit down for a moment?"

"No," Uncle Moony said shortly, folding his arms. "See, Dumbledore, this man has proved quite ineffectual at either defending or teaching his students, and now Harry Potter is in the Hospital Wing with half his bones missing."

"He really is a rubbish teacher, sir," Calla agreed quietly. Dumbledore looked at her in faint amusement.

"Professor Flitwick has informed me of your feelings towards Professor Lockhart, Miss Potter," he said placidly. "But I'm afraid it is not his teaching methods which are under scrutiny right now."

"No," Uncle Moony agreed, "it is the fact that he vanished a boy's bones and doesn't appear to be seeing any consequences for it."

"If I may," Lockhart interrupted in his usual pompous voice. "It is not my fault that the boy's bones are gone. I performed the spell perfectly, it must have been interference from elsewhere. High spirits at a Quidditch match, you see, students' magic can go awry without them even realising it."

It sounded like bull to Calla, but she wasn't sure she could phrase her opinion quite like that in front of Dumbledore. Uncle Moony made a sound of disgust as he glared at both professors. "With respect, the spell itself wasn't the correct incantation to mend bones, Lockhart. I would think that, after all your experiences saving towns from monsters, you would know how to mend broken bones."

"Of course I do," Lockhart assured him. "I said so in Year with the Yeti, didn't I?"

"Mr Lupin," Dumbledore spoke before either Calla or her godfather could argue with him. "I'm afraid that there is little I can do. No permanent damage has occurred, and mr Potter is well on his way to recovery in the Hospital Wing. We are all guilty of making mistakes, and I am sure Professor Lockhart will learn from his." He waved his hand. "You are dismissed."

Uncle Moony's face reddened. "That isn't quite good enough, Dumbledore," he protested, but Dumbledore stood, eyes stern and without their usual twinkle.

"It is all I can do or say, Mr Lupin. I suggest you go and visit Mr Potter before you make your way home."

Uncle Moony's shoulders slumped in defeat, though he sent a scathing look in Lockhart's direction. He turned away and Calla made to follow him out, but Dumbledore stopped her.

"Miss Potter, may I speak with you in private?" Dumbledore asked, and Calla's jaws tightened. She looked to her godfather, who reluctantly nodded and gave her a quick hug.

"I'll write you tonight, Calla," he told her quietly. "And I'll see you again at Christmas, okay?"

She nodded, and smiled as Lockhart left. "Get home safe," she said. "And thank you for coming."

She squeezed him tightly once again before letting go, as he made his way out the office. It was only her and Dumbledore now, and she looked around the office awkwardly, avoiding his gaze. The office was actually rather interesting, full of curious objects. Rings of gold twisted and span around one another on a pedestal, making tinkling sounds as they shifted, and a chess set sat perched on a windowsill, changing colour every second and seeming to play itself. But most curious of all, in Calla's opinion, was the great, red and gold coloured bird which sat in a gilded cage, tail feathers spread out majestically behind him.

Dumbledore caught her looking and smiled. "That's Fawkes," he told her. "My pet phoenix."

"He's gorgeous," Calla said, smiling warmly. She made a step forward and stopped herself, looking to Dumbledore. "Can I stroke him?"

Dumbledore smiled serenely. "Go ahead."

Smiling, she moved towards the phoenix, reaching a couple of fingers inside the bars of the cage. Fawkes tilted his head toward her with an odd, happy rumble, moving into her touch. She grinned, and gently stroked his feathers down. They were softer than she'd imagined they would be, more like finely woven silk than a bird's feathers.

She turned to Dumbledore, grinning. "How did you get him? I thought phoenixes were supposed to be really rare."

"An old friend gave him to me," was all he said. "Now, Miss Potter, I believe we have an important matter to discuss."

Her throat tightened and her stomach twisted, but she nodded gently. "What's that, sir?"

"I've heard you have been having what you call visions, is that correct?"

Oh. She nodded. "Yes, Professor."

Dumbledore frowned. "Take a seat, Miss Potter."

She did, folding her hands in her lap nervously. She knew at least she wasn't in trouble for her visions - at least, she sincerely hoped not - but there was something about the critical, assessing look in Dumbledore's eyes that made her nervous. "I don't know how it happened, Professor," she began quietly, not daring to meet his eyes. "It was last year that was the first time, when we were in detention in the forest."

"Was there anything that might have triggered this to happen?" Dumbledore asked curiously. "Anything you can think of, Miss Potter."

She thought back, and shuddered at the memory. "There was this figure in the woods, leaning over a unicorn. It hurt Harry's forehead, he said, and it hurt mine, and I blacked out. I don't think he had anything like what I experienced, though."

Dumbledore nodded, and steepled his fingers together. "I see." For a long moment, silence stretched between them, as Calla refused to meet Dumbledore's gaze. "Miss Potter, do you have any idea who this figure may have been?"

She had an idea, yes, but she didn't dare to say it out loud. "No, Professor."

He looked at her, twinkle gone from his eye. "This condition of yours is very rare, Miss Potter," Dumbledore told her at long last. "It seems you may have a gift for telling the future." She wasn't sure if that was necessarily good or bad. As if sensing that she didn't want to speak, Dumbledore continued on. "It is beyond me to help you, I'm afraid, but I can ease the more negative effects. I understand that you often black out when you have these visions, and have little control over them?"

She nodded. "I don't know how to stop them."

"I think I know how I might help. To control your visions, you must first control your mind. I don't expect you to be able to do it straight away. Indeed, what I ask of you is highly complex magic which most grown witches and wizards are unable to master." She withheld a groan. If Dumbledore really expected her to be able to master some complicated, rare bit of mind magic, then she was afraid he would be quickly proven wrong. "Tell me, have you heard of the art of Occlumency?"

"No, sir."

He smiled. "I didn't expect so. It as, as I say, a complex piece of magic. Most don't even attempt it, but I believe even having a small understanding of the theory could help you in the long run. As such, I plan to take it upon myself to teach you, alongside Professor Snape."

It had to be Snape, didn't it? "Has he agreed?" she asked, confused when he nodded. "Why?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "I know this is not the ideal situation, and I know most students are not particularly fond of Professor Snape. But between us both, I believe we might be able to help you control your visions, even just a small bit."

She wasn't sure she could argue with Dumbledore. Not because she wanted extra lessons - especially when she was falling behind in regular classes as it is - but because Dumbledore didn't strike her as the sort of person one would want to argue with. And, if anything could be done to give her more control then all the better for it.

"Okay," she said quietly. "I'll do it, then, if you think it'll help."

"Wonderful," Dumbledore beamed. "Aside from this," he continued, "I'd like you to meet Professor Trelawney, the Divination Professor. She is a Seer herself, though she works more with prophecies than visions, but nonetheless I believe she could help you immensely."

Uncle Moony had mentioned her in his letter, hadn't he? "Okay," she said, mind still reeling a little bit from the barrage of information that had been thrown at her. Today had been quite a day. "Er, thank you, Professor."

He smiled and waved, dismissing her gently. "Of course, Miss Potter. Await my owl regarding your lessons, please."

xxxx

In Calla's dreams, she saw the yellow eyes again, glinting in the darkness. Then, the flash of a camera, illuminating the wall as a shadow slinked away. Calla saw a portrait of the dirty mouthed knight that stood round the corner from the Hospital Wing, and felt a sickening lurch in her stomach as Colin Creevey's pale, terrified face came into view, a second before he toppled over backwards.

She woke with a start, propelled into the pitch black of the Ravenclaw Common Room. Colin was about to be attacked, she could fell it, and she tugged the Marauders' Map out from the inside of her pillow case, opening it with haste. Her eyes scanned the page as she searched for the name Colin Creevey on the map, finding him edging closer and closer to the Hospital Wing where, she noticed, Harry was with the house elf they'd met in the Summer, Dobby.

"What's he doing there?" she muttered angrily, stepping out of bed. She slipped her feet into slippers and pulled a dark robe around her before grabbing the map and her wand and sprinting out of the dorm and common room, making a beeline for the Hospital Wing a few floors up.

It seemed to take her longer than ever to reach the wing, despite her running, and she kept looking nervously at the map as Colin got closer to the wing. Strangely, there wasn't anyone else's name on the map, and though Calla looked, she couldn't see any passages outlined there. Did that mean the attacker really wasn't human? She dreaded to think what kind of monster could be attacking little Colin right now, and she quickened her pace, running headlong along the corridor and round the corner, just in time to see the flash of a camera, a disappearing shadow, and Colin falling to the floor.

"Colin!" she bellowed, breaking into a run and speeding to his side, kneeling. "Colin, Colin, wake up, please!" There was no reply. His eyes were glazed over, face stony. Tears stung at her eyes and her heart thumped erratically, he could be dead now, what if he was dead? She should have gotten there sooner, should have done something, fought the beast off, anything!

"Okay," she whispered, shivering as tears froze her cheeks. "Okay, I... Dumbledore." Dumbledore would know what to do, wouldn't he? He always did.

"Dumbledore!" she shouted up the corridor, stumbling up and to her feet. Her head was dizzy, and fuzzy as she tried to fathom what was going on, tried to make sense of it. "Dumbledore!"

As if by some miracle, he appeared around the corner at that very moment and Calla broke down into a sob, crumpling to the floor. Dumbledore raced along the corridor, violet robes whirling behind him. "Miss Potter," he said, clutching her shoulders. The usual twinkle in his eye was gone, and for some reason that was what made her stomach twist the most. "What has happened?"

"I - it's Colin, Professor," she said, stumbling over the words as a sob wrenched its way out of her chest. "Colin Creevey, he's been attacked, I didn't get here in time and - and I think he's dead, Professor, he's dead!"

Professor Dumbledore brushed past her, going to Colin's side. He waved his wand and muttered words Calla couldn't make out, before turning to her with a hard set to his eyes. "He's alive," he told her, and relief flooded her, though brought with it a fresh set of tears. "Just petrified."

"Like - like Mrs Norris was?" she asked, waiting for her suspicions to be confirmed. Colin had a camera - was he muggleborn?

"Yes," Dumbledore said gravely. "Just like Mrs Norris was."

Her lip trembled and she wrapped her arms around her chest, shivering. A sudden chill had descended over the corridor, as hs etared helplessly at professor Dumbledore. "Please, sir, is there anything you can do, can you make him okay? He's only a first year, sir, he really looks up to Harry and it's really cute, he was so excited about coming to Hogwarts, can't you-"

"Hush," Professor Dumbledore said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I'll stay here with Colin, can you go and find Professor McGonagall for me? I suspect you have ways of finding people?"

She nodded, still shaking and raced away, tearing the map from her pocket as soon as Dumbledore was out of sight. McGonagall, of course, was in her quarters next to Gryffindor Tower, quite soundly sleeping.

Calla veered off suddenly into a passage, rushing down the staircase to the entrance to Gryffindor Tower and running past the Fat Lady, who glared at her. She thumped on the door as hard as she could, certain she would be waking up the entire castle, but she had to get McGonagall, had to get her help.

When McGonagall opened the door, her face was clipped and stern, and she frowned down at Calla. "Miss Potter?" she asked, voice clipped. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Please, professor, it's Colin Creevey," she said, tripping over her words as her tongue tied itself in knots. "He - Dumbledore told me to come find you - Colin's been petrified!"

xxxx

Not much later, Harry awoke into the darkness and cried in pain at the sharp stinging pain that shot through his arm. Then, strangely, he felt someone sponging his head in the dark and shuddered, twisting away.

As he did so, he caught the outline of the one who had woken him, with a short body and larg bat ears. "Dobby!"

Dobby's eyes stared at him through the darkness, and Harry made out a tear running down his nose.

"Harry Potter came back to school," he said mournfully. "Dobby warned Harry Potter, why did Harry Potter not listen to Dobby? Why did you not return home with your sister when you missed the train?"

He hauled himself upright on his pillows and glared at Dobby, pushing his sponge away.

"Why're you here, Dobby?" he asked. "And how'd you know I missed the train?"

His lip trembled and it clicked into place. Of course. "You blocked the barrier!" he cried, waving a sharp, accusatory finger at Dobby. "You stopped me from getting through, didn't you?"

"Dobby only meant to stop Harry Potter from returning to Hogwarts, sir. Dobby never thought that Harry Potter would find another way of getting to school, Dobby didn't think Miss Potter would be able to go through the barrier."

Harry frowned, confused. "Wait, you tried to stop Calla too?"

Dobby nodded, batty ears flopping as he did so. "Miss Potter was protected from Dobby's magic, sir, by her Moony."

"Uncle Moony?" Harry asked, taken aback. He hadn't imagined that Calla would have been a target on that day, after all, she'd gotten through with apparent ease. But then again, he hadn't quite been thinking with his head that day anyway. "How?"

Dobby shook his head. "Dobby does not know exactly, sir. Calla Potter is protected by her Moony."

"Right." Harry paused, trying to take in what he'd just been told. "You do realise you could have gotten me and Ron expelled though, right? And my sister was furious with me."

"Better expelled than at Hogwarts, sir," Dobby told him, eyes wide.

"You'd better leave before I get my bones back, Dobby," Harry hissed fiercely. "Or I might strangle you myself."

Dobby gave a disconcerting smile. "Dobby is used to death threats, sir. Dobby gets them five times a day at home."

He bundled the pillowcase he wore in his hand tightly, looking so pathetic and dejected that Harry began to feel his anger slowly edge away, despite what Dobby has done. "Why do you wear that thing, Dobby?" he asked in a soft voice.

"It's a mark of the house elf's eslavement, Sir," Dobby said, tugging at the pillowcase. "Dobby can only be freed if his master presents him with clothes, sir. The family will not even give Dobby a sock, sir, because then he would be free to leave. How Dobby would love to leave, sir!"

He blew his nose on the end of his pillowcase, wiped his teary, bulging eyes and said suddenly, "Harry Potter must go home! Dobby thought his bludger would be enough-"

"Wait, Your bludger?" Harry cried, anger rising furiously again. "You mean you tried to kill me!"

"No, no, sir!" Dobby cried in shock. "Not kill, sir, Dobby would never mean to kill you! Dobby wants to save Harry Potter! Better to be sent home injured with his sister, than to remain in Hogwarts, sir! Dobby only wanted Harry Potter to go home!"

"Oh, that's it then, is it?" Harry asked angrily. "I don't supposed I'm allowed to know why you wanted me sent home in pieces?"

Dobby let out another wretched sob. "If only Harry Potter knew!" he cried. "If only Harry Potter knew what his name means for us lowly house elves, treated like dirt before the great fall of You-Know-Who! Of course," he said, wiping the tear that hung off his pointed nose, "Dobby is still treated like dirt, sir. But now, Harry Potter, terrible things are happening at Hogwarts. Dobby cannot allow Harry Potter to remain here when history is about to repeat itself, when the Chamber of Secrets is once again opened-"

Dobby froze in horror at what he'd just let slip. In a sudden movement, he lunged for Harry's water jug and cracked it over his head. He toppled out of sight and a second later crawled back onto the bed, drenched and shivering. "Bad Dobby," he muttered to himself, "very bad Dobby."

"So the Chamber of Secrets is real?" Dobby's hand inched towards the water jug again and Harry seized him by the wrist to stop him. "But, Dobby, I'm not a muggleborn, why would I be in danger from the chamber of secrets?"

"Sir, ask no more, sir, no more," Dobby pleaded with wide eyes. "Dark deeds are planned for Hogwarts, but Harry and Calla Potter must not be here when they happen. No, Harry Potter must go home and be safe. Go home, Harry Potter. You must not meddle in these things, they are too dangerous, sir, far too dangerous..."

"Dobby, who's behind the attacks?" Harry hissed, tightening his grip on Dobby. Now he was mentioning Calla's name, and Harry could not shake the nausea from his stomach. Was she in danger too, now? "Dobby, tell me, please, now. Who's opened it, who opened it the last time?"

"Dobby can't say sir, Dobby mustn't!" the house elf cried. "Go home, Harry Potter, go home with your sister!"

"But I can't go!" Harry cried. "One of my best friends is muggleborn, she'll be in danger too and I can't just leave her!"

"Harry Potter risks his own life for his friends!" Dobby moaned, eyes welling with tears. "He is so noble, so valiant! But Harry Potter must not stay when he is in danger, he must save himself!"

Dobby froze then, bat ears pricking up as Harry heard footsteps coming down the corridor. "Dobby must go," he whispered in terror, and clicked his fingers. With a crack, he disappeared. Harry lunged forward to catch him, but held only air, and slumped down dejectedly.

The footsteps drew nearer and he slumped down, eyes fixated on the door. He squinted in the dark as the door creaked open, and three figures stepped inside, another floating like a statue behind.

His heart froze as he made out Dumbledore, McGonagall, and then Calla, pale faced and visibly crying as Colin Creevey's lifeless body was levitated behind them.

xxxxx

The hospital wing was cold. She could hear Harry breathing somewhere - he was its only current inhabitant - but couldn't see him, just the curtains which surrounded him. "Get Madam Pomfrey," she heard Dumbledore whisper to McGonagall who scurried off and returned a few moments later, with the nurse in tow.

She frowned at Calla, whose eyes widened with fresh tears, and then her gaze flicked to Colin Creevey and her face turned at least five shades paler. She gasped. "Albus, what's happened?" she asked, horrorstruck.

"Another attack," Dumbledore said gravely, waving a hand at Calla, who shivered. "Miss Potter here found him on the stairs."

"There was a bunch of grapes next to him, weren't there, Miss Potter?"

Calla startled at being addressed and then nodded pathetically. "Yes, Professor."

"We believe he was on his way up to see Mr Potter," Dumbledore told Madam Pomfrey, and Calla's stomach gave an ugly lurch. She hoped to god Harry hadn't overheard that.

"Petrified?" Madam Pomfrey asked, and Dumbledore nodded.

"Yes," McGonagall said, and shuddered. "But I dread to think, what might have happened had Miss Potter not been there - for whatever reason she may have had - and that Albus had not been on his way downstairs for hot chocolate. Why, anything could have..." She trailed off, and Calla was almost surprised to see the faint glimmer of tears in the professor's eyes.

The three adults stared down at Colin and Calla stepped back a little, not wanting to get any closer to the tragic, lifeless body on the hospital bed. As she did so, she stumbled a little, bashing into the curtains around Harry's bed. She heard a faint, muffled yelp from inside, and stared. Brilliant, she'd just woken him up. Slowly, hoping that no ne would notice, she opened the curtains, and looked at her brother, who stared back at her.

He mouthed the words, "What's happening?" and she bit her lip, trying to figure out how to say it.

"Colin," she mouthed, miming the click of a camera, "petrified. I," she pointed to herself, "found him." She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder towards Colin.

Harry's eyes widened. "How?"

She mimed opening a folded bit of paper, and mouthed, "Map." Then, she tapped her head. "Vision."

Harry opened his mouth again, but Calla was snapped away by the sound of Professor McGonagall's voice from Colin's bedside. "Do you think he got a picture of his attacker?" she asked, as Calla pressed a finger to her lips and softly closed the curtains.

Dumbledore fumbled about, before lifting up a camera. Calla moved forward, curiously waiting to see if Colin had gotten a shot, only to see a cloud of steam and smoke rise from the camera, and smell the acrid smell of burning plastic.

"Melted," Madam Pomfrey whispered, "all melted."

"But Albus, what does this mean?" McGonagall pressed urgently.

"It means," Dumbledore said in a grave voice, "that the chamber of secrets is indeed open again."

"What?" Calla whispered, the words like ice in her chest. She'd been hoping and hoping that maybe it was all a hoax, a means to scare people, but no. No, this was real, and even Dumbledore believed it.

"But, Albus," McGonagall began, "who?"

"The question, Minerva, is not a matter of who, but a matter of how." He clapped his hands together bracingly. "Now, could someone please fetch a blanket and a hot drink for Miss Potter? She is quite shivery there, and no doubt has had quite a shock tonight."

Madam Pomfrey nodded, and gave Calla a short smile, leading her away to her office. Instead of being the usual whitewashed clinical nurse's office, hers was filled with different medicines in brightly coloured bottles, folded blankets of red and blue and yellow and green, and a cup of hot chocolate which was already steaming and stirring itself. "You can come in," Madam Pomfrey told Calla kindly, as she was still hovering nervously in the doorway. "You've had quite a shock."

"I thought he was dead," Calla whispered numbly, feet moving of their own accord to bring her to sit down. "I thought... When I saw him, he looked like he was dead." She let out a sob and Madam Pomfrey hurried over with a blue blanket, wrapping it around her shoulder and bringing Calla into a gentle hug.

"It's alright, Miss Potter," she said kindly. "Mr Creevey isn't dead, only petrified. I can fix that in time; he will be okay, I promise you that."

"I know," she sobbed, "but he still - he looked... And it was horrible, Madam Pomfrey, I didn't know what to do, if Dumbledore hadn't appeared."

"But he did," Madam Pomfrey reminded her. "And everything is alright now, see? We'll get Mr Creevey back on his feet."

She nodded, shivering. "Could I have some of that hot chocolate now?"

Madam Pomfrey smiled. "Of course, Miss Potter."


	25. Ch24 - Potions and Spells

When Calla awoke on the Sunday morning, it was in the Ravenclaw dormitory, to see the sun slanting in through her curtains and the four other girls looking over her, even Daphne.

"Morning," Padma said with a gentle smile, kneeling down beside her bed. She reached out a gentle hand to hold Calla's, squeezing it tightly. "How are you feeling?"

She winced. "Tired."

"We heard McGonagall telling Flitwick that you found that Gryffindor kid, Colin Creevey petrified last night," said Lisa Turpin, looking concerned. "What happened?"

Her words got stuck in her throat as she tried to figure out what she could say, if anyone would believe the truth, or if they would condemn her for it. "I wanted to go and visit my brother," she told them eventually, looking down at her lap. It wasn't strictly a lie - she had wanted to see Harry - but that wasn't what had caused her to find Colin. "And I think he had the same idea, but he... he got attacked." A sob wrenched its way from her lips and Padma shifted to rub her back comfortingly. "I thought he was dead. He - he looked dead."

"That's horrible," said Mandy with a shudder. "And poor little Colin, he was only a first year, wasn't he?"

Calla nodded numbly. "Wasn't even twelve yet. He followed Harry about all the time too, he adored him." She felt tears prick her eyes and wiped them away furiously with the sleeve of her nightgown. "Madam Pomfrey said they can cure him, but I think it's going to take a while."

"The effects can be reversed with mandrake leaves," Daphne told the group, startling Calla. She turned to stare at her.

"How do you know?"

She shrugged and tossed her hair behind her shoulder. "I've been doing my research on it. It was only a matter of time before there was another attack, and well, now we know for certain that the chamber of secrets is open again."

Lisa Turpin's face turned pale. "It's all true, then," she whispered, more scared than Calla had ever seen her. "We have to let Isobel and Terry know, they're in even more danger now. We shouldn't let them go places alone, they could be vulnerable."

Calla and Padma nodded their agreement. "Let all the Ravenclaws know," Padma suggested. "Terry and Isobel aren't the only muggleborns in our house, after all."

"That isn't all," Calla added, getting their attention back on them. She swallowed nervously. "Dumbledore knows who it is."

"What?" Mandy hissed. "Will they be expelled?"

"I assume they'll be taken to Azkaban," Lisa told them, and Calla tried to recall what that meant. It was the wizarding prison, she remembered, guarded by something, though she wasn't sure what. Padma had said loads of old Death Eaters were kept there.

"Well, then we're safe, aren't we? Dumbledore will see to it that they're brought to justice."

"I don't know," Daphne said, quietly. "I - I know who opened the chamber last time, I've been asking around recently. I thought it could be one of the Flints, but it isn't. Last time, it was Hagrid."

Calla's stomach plummeted as she stared at Daphne. "Excuse me?"

"It can't have been Hagrid," Padma argued, scoffing. "Have you even met him? He's the nicest person ever, and he adores Hermione, and she's a muggleborn."

"And he told me and Harry he was a Gryffindor, not a Slytherin," Calla protested, though a seed of doubt remained. She tried to push it away, but it still terrified her. Had she been wrong about Hagrid all this time? But it didn't make sense, her instincts screamed at her. Why would Hagrid want to get rid of muggleborns. "It can't be Hagrid."

"Well, it was last time," Daphne said with a shrug. "Believe me or don't believe me, it's your choice, but Dumbledore will know. I hate to admit it, but Hagrid's already been found guilty once, and he doesn't have any children, so it has to be him who's opened the chamber. I'm telling you now, by the end of the week, he'll be in Azkaban." She shuddered. "I just wish it weren't true."

"Well, it's not," Padma argued fiercely, surprising Calla as she glared at Daphne. "And why should we listen to you anyway, you've been avoiding us for weeks, ever since the first attack." She narrowed her eyes. "I think you're hiding something, Greengrass." She spat her name out with such disgust that Calla nearly recoiled from her, and exchanged a confused glance with Mandy, who looked like she would rather be anywhere but the Ravenclaw dorm right now, in the middle of this battle.

"Are you trying to accuse me of something, Patil?" Daphne asked, voice dangerously low and bordering on furious. Her glare was fierce and her blue eyes crackled with a warning to back down.

Padma did not back down, instead stood up, staring Daphne in the eyes. "I think it's rather suspicious that the day after Mrs Norris was attacked, you immediately stopped talking to us. You're from an old pureblood family, aren't you? One of the oldest, in fact."

"That doesn't mean anything," said Daphne in a tight voice. "I haven't done anything, you idiot, I've been trying to get information out of the Slytherins. That's how I found out that Hagrid is behind it."

Padma scoffed. "Yeah, right. Since when has Hagrid ever tried to hurt someone?"

"You tell me, he's the one with the weird fascination for evil creatures. Or did you forget about the three headed dog?"

"Fluffy wasn't hurting anyone!" Padma cried. "He was protecting the stone! Hagrid wouldn't hurt anybody, I know he wouldn't! And besides, how do we know you're not just using this as a coverup?"

"Because I'm not!" Daphne shouted back. "Ask Dumbledore if you don't believe me, Patil. Like it or not, I'm telling the truth."

"Get out," Padma muttered, glaring at Daphne.

"Padma-" Calla began, sensing the tension that would only grow from here. "Maybe we should listen."

"No," she said fiercely. "She's a liar, and she's hurt us before. I won't have her wrongly accuse Hagrid."

"Fine," Daphne said, voice cold and unfeeling. "If that's what you think of me, then maybe I'm better off with the Slytherins anyway."

With that, she turned on her heel and stalked out of the dormitory, slamming the door behind her.

There was a long, heavy silence before anyone spoke. "Well," Lisa began, voice shaky. "That was fun, wasn't it?"

Calla's head was still spinning from Daphne's reveal. She didn't believe that Hagrid was the heir of Slytherin, or that he would have anything against muggleborns. And even if he wasn't a fan of Filch - no one was, not really - he was a great lover of animals, cats included. He wouldn't have hurt Mrs Norris, it wasn't like him. But then again, he was expelled from Hogwarts when he was younger. Was it possible it was for opening the chamber of secrets?

"I'm going to get ready for breakfast," she said quietly. "What time is it?"

"Half past eleven," Padma supplied, eyeing her nervously. "We'll wait and go down with you, won't we?"

She gave Lisa a pointed look, and she nodded. "Yeah, of course."

xxxx

When Calla left the Ravenclaw Common Room, with the girls plus Anthony in tow, she nearly tripped over her own feet as she bumped right into her brother's back. "Harry?" she blurted out, surprised. "You're okay!"

He turned to her and grinned, waving his arm about for her to see. "Madam Pomfrey got me all fixed up."

"Oh, thank goodness." She smield, letting out a relieved sigh. "We're just going to breakfast, can you come?"

"Actually," Harry said, smile faltering. "I've just been with Ron and Hermione. There are some things we need to talk to you and Padma about. And you need to go and speak to Dumbledore, apparently, I think it's about last night."

Her blood ran cold. "They don't think I did it, do they?" she asked, voice shaking. Oh, she really hadn't thought it through, what if they thought it was suspicious that she was there, what if they thought that she was the attacker? But then she reminded herself, grasping at the straws of rationality, that Dumbledore knew who it was, and knew the chamber had been opened before. He knew it wasn't her, didn't he? Merlin, she hoped so.

"No, no," Harry assured her hastily. "I think he just wants to talk to you. He'll probably give you house points or something."

"Oh." Her stomach twisted. House points, for seeing an eleven year petrified and thinking he was dead? Somehow, she liked to think there were better things she could be recognised for. "Okay."

"Hey," Padma said gently, putting an arm on her shoulder. "Let's get breakfast first, yeah? Then we can talk."

Calla smiled at her appreciatively. "Thank you."

xxxx

In the time that Calla went do, had, and returned from breakfast, no fewer than six conversations had ended when she walked past, and no fewer than ten muggleborns had scurried out of her way in the corridor. Each time, it made her feel more and more sick, and more and more eager to figure out who had really opened the chamber. She hated the idea that anyone would suspect her, the idea that anyone would think her hateful enough to be capable of hurting an eleven year old boy.

Padma and Harry both accompanied her to Dumbledore's office, as she paced nervously in front of the gargoyle statue. "Do either of you two know how to get in?" she asked them, pursing her lips. They shook their heads, and Harry shrugged. "Brilliant."

Calla turned to the gargoyle which overlooked the hallway, and swallowed nervously. "Um, hello?" she asked, shifting from foot to foot. "I, er, I've been asked to meet Professor Dumbledore." She glanced back at Harry, who gave her an encouraging thumbs up. "Could you let me in please?" The gargoyle statue did not respond. "I'm Calla Potter, by the way, if that helps." It did not.

She turned and looked nervously at her brother, but all he did was shrug. She couldn't actually remember how Uncle Moony has gotten to the office yesterday, she'd been more preoccupied with worrying over her brother. Maybe there was a password? She glanced at the gargoyle, who stared back unblinkingly.

"Uh... Hogwarts?" Nothing happened. "Phoenix?" Again, nothing. "Fawkes? Gryffindor? Teaching? Wizard? Dumbledore?"

"Ah, Miss Potter," his voice came pleasantly from around the corner as he appeared, smiling. "Do forgive me for making you wait." He nodded politely to Padma and Harry. "Might we proceed to my office? I have only a few questions for you about last night."

Calla looked back at her brother and friend. "Go," Harry assured her. "We'll be in the library."

She smiled. "Thanks."

The two waved and disappeared round the corner, leaving just her and Dumbledore again. This was becoming a rather common occurrence, actually. "Sherbet lemon," he said, as the gargoyle began to grind against the stone and turn, revealing a winding stone staircase.

"Woah." She didn't remember this happening yesterday, which was actually rather concerning. Whoops.

She followed Dumbledore up the steps, as the gargoyle guarded entrance closed behind them. The staircase seemed to him on forever, stretching upwards before her until at long last, they came to stop and Dumbledore led her into his office.

This time, she didn't look around, instead taking a seat as instructed by Dumbledore. "Miss Potter," he began, sitting down. "Can you tell me what led to you finding Colin Creevey near the hospital wing last night?"

Well, there was no use lying to Dumbledore was there? He knew about her visions anyway, even if he didn't know about the Marauder's Map. "I had a dream," she told him. "It was one of my visions actually, I think - it felt different than a normal dream. And when I woke up, I - I could tell it was going to happen soon, I could feel it." She looked down, cheeks aflame. "I know that probably sounds weird."

"Not at all, Miss Potter," Dumbledore assured her. "Do continue."

"Well, I knew Colin was near the Hospital Wing, I recognised the corridor. So I ran out, I wanted to get there as soon as I could, but-" she stopped herself, choking on her words. "I was too late."

He looked at her, sizing her up. "And is that all you saw, Miss Potter?"

She debated for a moment, before deciding to but the bullet and shake her head. "No, Professor. I also... In the vision I saw a pair of yellow eyes. It matched with one I'd had earlier, when Mrs Norris was attacked. There was a pair of yellow eyes, and the cat was chasing spiders, but then the cat stopped and the spiders kept going." She shrugged. "That one still doesn't totally make sense, but my visions can be different sometimes. I saw Harry with the bludger too, and I tried to stop that but I couldn't. I don't know if it's possible to change my visions."

Dumbledore smiled with the familiar twinkle in his eyes. "Well, we can always try." He paused, and Calla looked up. "If that's all you have to tell me, then you're free to go."

She bit her lip. It wasn't her business to say, but it seemed her visions were linked to the Chamber of Secrets more and more, and it could be important to note Harry's voices. But it was his secret to share, not hers. "Thank you, Professor," she said, standing up. "Um, I'll see you for my Occlumency lessons?"

He smiled as she left.

xxxx

It was a week later, when two exciting things happened.

For one, the Gryffindors finally deigned to properly involve Calla and Padma in the making of their Polyjuice Potion, which they planned to use to get information out of Draco Malfoy. Though Calla still wasn't quite convinced of his guilt, she couldn't argue that they needed to know, and any information they could get would be useful. The process of brewing the potion was rather therapeutic, she found, as she helped stir and stir, sitting cross legged on the floor of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. They had about another three weeks to brew, and then the potion would, with any luck, be ready for consumption without killing anyone. Hopefully.

The other was an announcement made on the notice board in the Entrance Hall. Calla and Padma had been heading to dinner after their Herbology class when they saw the close knot of people clustered around the notice board, chattering excitedly.

"Wonder what that's all about?" Padma wondered, wandering over with Calla in tow. Ron, Hermione, and Harry were already there, as was Daphne Greengrass and a gaggle of Slytherins.

"Duelling club?" Calla said, reading the notice aloud. "Since when did Hogwarts have a duelling club?"

"Since now!" cried Daphne excitedly, turning to them. "The first meeting's tonight!"

Calla and Padma exchanged awkward glances, before staring at Daphne. "Okay."

Daphne's face fell and she glared, tossing her hair. "All I did was answer a question," she said, in an irritated voice as she turned away to the group of Slytherins, who giggled at something she said.

"Who's teaching it?" Calla asked her brother, who moved to stand next to her.

He wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Doesn't say. Flitwick, maybe, I've heard he's a pro."

"Reckon Slytherin's monster can duel?" Ron asked, though he still looked rather interested at the board. "Suppose it could be useful though. Do you think we ought to go?"

"I don't see why not," Padma said, nodding in agreement.

Calla and Harry exchanged excited glances. "We should do it," Harry said. "Mione?"

"Sure," she said, smiling, though there was still something uneasy about it, as the group moved off and headed to dinner.

They returned to the Great Hall later that night, at eight o'clock. It seemed a good proportion of the student body had turned out. Almost all of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, with most of the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs joining too. Calla even noted the Weasley twins, laughing about something with their friend Lee the Quidditch commentator. The long dining tables that were usually seen in the Great Hall had vanished, and on the side of the wall where Slytherin usually sat, a golden stage had appeared, illuminated by floating candles overhead.

"D'you reckon Flitwick's teaching?" Michael Corner asked Calla, as the Ravenclaws stood in a huddle by the doors. "He's a duelling champion apparently."

"Dunno," Calla said, shrugging. "I hope so."

"I've heard it's Snape," Lisa told the group, craning her neck to try and catch sight of the sour-faced potions master. "He's been into the dark arts for years, you know, I wouldn't be surprised if he knew more dark curses than about anyone else outside of Azkaban."

Behind Calla, Daphne Greengrass shuddered. "Don't say that," she said, voice more gentle than it had been recently.

"Go hang with the snakes, Greengrass," Mandy hissed from beside Calla, who exchanged nervous glances with Padma.

"Maybe I will," she muttered, though she made no effort to move.

Instead, Calla and Padma caught sight of Harry, Ron, and Hermione entering the Great Hall and moved to join them, Padma lightly grumbling about Daphne's general presence. "Evening," Ron greeted them with a grin. "We're not late, are we?"

Calla shook her head. "Haven't started yet."

"Good," Hermione said, grinning. She moved forward, leading them further into the crowd of people. "I wonder who'll be teaching us?"

"Lisa says she's heard it's Snape," Calla told the group. "Michael says Flitwick."

Harry looked at her quizzically. "Lisa who?"

"Lisa Turpin," she said, staring at him. She was almost certain the name had come up in conversation before. And anyway, how would Harry not recognise the name? It wasn't like there were many people in their year, after all. "She's in my dorm."

"Oh." He shrugged. "Well, in any case, I don't care who it is, even if it is Snape. Just as long as it isn't-"

Hermione gasped. "Lockhart!"

The others all groaned, and Hermione looked rather affronted. "Guys, he is our Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor."

"Doesn't mean we have to like him," Calla muttered darkly, turning to see Lockhart stride down what appeared to be a catwalk in the middle of the Great Hall. A few students cheered and whistled, and he beamed, clearly soaking up the attention. Calla scowled. This was bound to be a disaster, she just knew it.


	26. Ch25 - Parseltongue

As Calla had so well anticipated, Duelling Club was a disaster of truly epic proportions. First, Snape and Lockhart had 'duelled' which ended in Snap's inevitable victory and Lockhart looking like even more of an absolute plumhead than he already did. Then, they'd all been split up to duel. In part, Calla was glad she didn't have to duel Harry after being his first choice - he would have gone easy because she wasn't good with combat magic, but it would have been embarrassing if he hadn't and she'd lost in the way she imagined - but having to duel Justin Finch-Fletchley wasn't ideal either. He was a bit of a prick, and wouldn't shut up about how we was meant to go to Eton, but it seemed neither of them were particularly great at duelling. At least she hadn't lost spectacularly.

But Harry, on the other hand, had been made to pair up with Draco Malfoy for his duel. Malfoy, ever the fair competitor, summoned a snake to attack Harry. For a second Calla had been terrified as it approached her brother, until he started hissing. She couldn't make out what he was trying to say, even though he told her later that he was speaking to it, but the snake turned, going after Justin. He'd screamed, and backed away from Calla, staring at her like she had anything to do with her brother's apparent snake whispering abilities.

Needless to say, it had kicked off, and now Calla stood with Padma, Ron, Hermione and Daphne (for whatever reason, they couldn't be bothered telling her to leave), staring at Harry. "Look, I don't know what happened," he insisted. "I wasn't trying to do anything, or hurt anyone."

"It looked like you were," Padma said in a small voice. Calla states at her and she shrugged apologetically. "It did. I know you weren't but you can't blame anyone for being scared, especially poor Justin."

"I've done it before," Harry mumbled, and Calla nodded, a memory coming back to her.

"He's right," she said. "We were at the zoo - I remember because I thought you were faking trying to talk to the snake - and then it came out the enclosure and started..." She trailer off, not sure if she should tell them exactly what had happened. Outright saying he'd set a snake on their cousin might not do much to quell people's fears. "Well, it started trying to escape."

"It was a boa constrictor," Harry explained meekly. "It wanted to go back home to Brazil."

Daphne scoffed. "Okay, well, regardless, you need to know what this means. You're a Parseltongue."

"A What?"

"Parseltongue," Ron said. "You can talk to snakes."

"I've been doing my research," Daphne explained. "I figured the Slytherin would know more than anyone about the Chamber of Secrets, and could confirm what I know." She narrowed her eyes and cold washed over Calla. "The Heir is Slytherin's heir. He was a Parseltongue, and, well, it isn't exactly a common ability. It's passed down. Harry, you're the heir of Slytherin."

The others all paled at that, and Calla scrunched Up her nose in confusion. What Daphne said make sense but there was no way Harry was the heir of Slytherin. "I can't speak Parseltongue," she said quietly. Harry looked at her nervously. "Well, I can't. Like I said I thought you were kidding on at talking to that boa constrictor at the zoo, and I had no clue what was going on tonight. This is some weird, flukey, thing, not a hereditary ability." She glared at Daphne. "And there's no way Harry hurt Mrs Filch because as we all know, he was with us in the dungeons on Halloween."

"I didn't say he did it," Daphne countered. "I just said he must be the heir. Maybe the gene didn't pass on the same to you Calla."

"Well, all our family's been in Gryffindor."

"You're not."

"I'm also not in Slytherin."

Daphne pursed her lips. "Well, the heir isn't anybody in Slytherin. I've spoken to every one of my connections and Astoria's spoken to hers, and nobody is claiming it, and no one has a clue who it is."

"It's Malfoy," Ron said adamantly. "We just need to prove it."

"You're not going to be able to prove it," Daphne said, rolling her eyes. "It isn't him. He hasn't told Pansy and he hasn't told me, and he hasn't told anybody else. We all know that if he was the Heir, everyone in Slytherin would know about it."

"Except you aren't in Slytherin, are you?" Hermione asked. "They might not trust you."

"Please." Daphne gave a haughty flip of her hair. "Hermione, I've known Draco since we were babies, and Pansy just as long. He trusts me."

"I still think it could be him," Harry admitted.

"Harry!" Calla protested. She'd told him before she didn't think it was Draco, and even if he had pulled that stunt with the snake he hadn't had the control over it a Parseltongue or Heir of Slytherin would. "You don't really believe that?"

"Calla, It is a possibility."

"Oh Merlin," she groaned. "I know you guys think it and I know we're trying to get proof, but I still don't believe-"

"What proof?" Daphne asked. "I've already told you it's not Draco." She narrowed her eyes. "What are you up to?"

"None of your business," Padma said sharply. "Why would we believe what you say anyway, you tried to make out like Hagrid was the one opening the hammer, now you move onto Harry and Calla, but you still don't think it's Draco?"

"Wait hold on a minute." Hermione whirled on Daphne. "Hagrid?"

"He opened it last time." Everyone's jaws dropped. "Well, he did. That's why he got expelled."

"Hagrid." Ron's voice was soft, but Calla recognised that fear. "No way."

"He did tell me he got expelled." Harry shook his head. "But come on, its Hagrid we're talking about. He wouldn't hurt anybody. Would he?"

"He does have a rather concerning obsession with dangerous magical creatures," Hermione mused, pursing her lips. "But he's never been hateful to any muggleborn and he's never been prejudiced." She shook out her hair and stared Daphne down. "It can't be him. Can it?"

Daphne scoffed. "It was. If you don't want to believe me, fine, but I'd think you'd listen to your friend, considering I've been trying to find out everything I can to prove it wasn't either Calla or Harry like everyone else seems to think." She turned and gave Calla one last look over her shoulder before marching out.

"What is her problem?" Padma asked.

Calla's stomach turned. Daphne, for all her faults, had been her friend. Last year she'd been scared of her parents' retaliation and this year it seemed her heart was in the right place - she just couldn't do as she wanted in the right way. She still didn't know what to say to her, though.

"Let's just go," she said, gesturing to Harry. "We need to figure this Parseltongue stuff out, and why I don't have it." She frowned, a sudden thought coming to her. "I know Mum was a muggleborn, but Dad was from an old pureblood family; a Gryffindor one. If any of them had a tie to Slytherin, it was hidden, but there's one person we know who'd know if Parseltongue runs in the family."

It dawned on Harry suddenly and his mouth dropped. "Oh. Uncle Moony."

 _Dear Uncle Moony,_

 _So we had Duelling Club tonight, for the first time. It was a bit dramatic, but I (Calla) almost won my duel which was quite good. Snape and Lockhart were teaching it together (it was both hilarious because they were so unevenly matched and terrifying because pretty much anything could have happened). But there was an incident with Harry and Draco's duel._

This was where Harry took over, takin the quill from Calla. "Rude," she muttered, and he poked out his tongue.

 _It wasn't actually my fault, by the way (this is Harry). Malfoy summoned a snake and it was trying to attack Justin, who had been duelling Calla and was right next to her. So obviously I (Harry) tried to get it to go away but the snake seemed to listen to me. Apparently I was speaking Parseltongue, which I didn't know, but it made sense. You remember when we went to the zoo with the Dursley's for Dudley's birthday because Mrs Figg couldn't take us and you were working? Do you also remember that I got in trouble for making the snake attack Dudley?_

At this point, Calla interjected with a, "Of course he remembers, Harry, it's not something that's easy to forget."

 _Ron and Daphne were telling us about Parselmouths and their relation to Slytherin, and how they're heridatry. But Calla can't speak it, so we were wondering if our dad spoke it at all or if there was any connection to Slytherin? We're just curious._

 _Hope you're well and write back soon._

 _Love you._

 _Calla and Harry_

They sealed the envelope and handed it to Hedwig, who ruffled her feathers and took off out the window. Calla leaned back against the wall of the owlery. "You're worried, aren't you?"

"What? That was might actually have some relation to Slytherin?" Harry bit his lip and nodded. "It is weird. I don't want to be related to him - he's Slytherin, he's the worst of the lot! But I don't want it to be Hagrid either."

"It's not," Calla said. "It can't be; I don't believe it."

"You don't believe Daphne?"

She shrugged. Her feelings about Daphne, at the moment, were rather... Confusing. Padma was furious with her, and she hadn't exactly tried to make any amends for suddenly ignoring them, just covering it up with 'research'. "I think she believe it," Calla said slowly, careful with her words. "But that doesn't mean she's completely right." She pursed her lips. "There's a lot to find out, and we don't have any evidence either way." She looked at Harry's mouth, about to open. "And no, Malfoy summoning a snake does not count as evidence."

Harry shut his mouth abruptly. He sighed. "Fine," was his muttered reply. "But he's still suspect."

"Everyone's a suspect right now, Harry," Calla told her brother with a shudder. "Even us, to everyone else at least."

"Me more than you I think," Harry said gloomily. "Neville won't hardly look at me."

"Neville will come 'round," Calla promised. "And I'll speak to Justin." Harry frowned at her. "I'm good friends with Zach and Hannah, and all the Hufflepuff like me. They don't know you as well, but they'll trust that it's not your if I tell them."

"I find that hard to believe."

"I'll find a way," Calla said, then grabbed his wrist as the clock chimed six o'clock. "Come on, I want dinner."


	27. Ch26 - Fallout

Uncle Moony replied the next day, his handwriting sharp and somewhat jagged.

 _Dear Calla and Harry,_

 _It sounds like you both had quite the time at the Dueling Club - tell me, how much did Snape hate having to duel that oaf Lockhart? I hope they both got a helping of humiliation. As for your questions about Slytherin, your father and his parents never mentioned any family ties to the founder. Some in their time did theorise that the Potter family bore a relation to Gryffindor, actually, but no one has found any concrete evidence of that. You were both born in Godric's Hollow, after all, the place Gryffindor and even Dumbledore grew up. Any relation to Slytherin is slim, though I am confused by Harry's Parseltongue. James certainly never spoke it, nor did either Euphemia or Fleamont, your grandparents. Further back than that I don't know for certain but it was certainly never mentioned_.

 _Now, I don't know why you two are suddenly asking questions about Slytherin and your relation but from what I've heard recently, it would not be a good idea to get too involved. I have been informed of the recent petrifications and though I have no idea who is behind them, it is best for both of you to stay out of it, even if that may not seem the best option to you right now. Keep your heads down this year and work hard at your exams, please. Calla, I've spoken to Dumbledore about you not wanting to go to Defense Against the Dark Arts anymore and I understand and admire your reasoning but it is best that you maintain your education and this won't help, even if your teacher hasn't the faintest idea what he's doing. Again, keep your head down and try to salvage what you can from his lectures, but don't feel pressured to do something you feel uncomfortable with._

Calla groaned, resting her head on Harry's shoulder. He laughed, earning a sharp look from Madam Pince. "You should have known he wouldn't let you skive lessons," Harry said, earning himself an acidic glare. It only made him grin.

"I don't care what he says, I'm not going back. Lockhart's an idiot."

A passing Slytherin girl glared, then caught their eyes and scurried onwards. Calla huffed. Even the Slytherins themselves were being wary of them now, which was a cause for concern. If Slytherins thought they might be the ones behind the attack, it meant that even they had no idea who really was.

Everyone had been keeping their distance lately. Ernie and Justin wouldn't talk to Calla at all, despite her efforts, though Zach and Hannah still did, and Susan was too polite to avoid conversation. The Ravenclaws in their year were okay mostly, except for Lisa, but Calla put that down to her general dislike.

Fred and George had been great though. They insisted on walking both Harry and Calla everywhere - though mostly Harry - and declaring loudly that everyone made way for the Heirs of Slytherin. It had turned it into a joke for themselves, and somehow made it a bit of a joke for other people who realised, with the one braincell Hogwarts seemed to possess, that maybe the two twelve-year olds weren't the ones trying to kill people.

Harry continued on reading the letter, breaking Calla from her thoughts. "I hope you benefit from your lessons with Dumbledore, Snape and Trelawney." He looked at her. "I didn't know you were getting extra lessons."

Her cheeks flamed. "It's for my visions," she mumbled. "Trelawney's the Divination teacher so she'll help me figure out what they mean and to control them and how I can use it... Dumbledore and Snape are teaching me occlumency." She wrinkled her nose. The lessons were due to start next week and she had to admit she was far from looking forward to them. Snape didn't seem to openly dislike her in Potions, probably because she was half-decent at it and kept her head down as Moony asked, but she knew that anything involving actual spellwork would be a disaster once both Dumbledore and Snape realised how truly terrible she was at magic.

"That's good though, isn't it?" Harry asked. "Well, apart from Snape being involved, but it could help a lot."

"Yeah," she muttered. "It's just..." Calla struggles with the words, not sure how much she could force herself to say to her brother. She didn't like to think about her magic in comparison to Harry's. It didn't bother her that he was the more famous one of them and the Boy-Who-Lived, but the fact that she had failed so much last year and had never managed to live up to their parents or their legacy or what anybody expected of her. "I don't want them to know how bad I am."

"What do you mean?" Harry stared at her. "Your visions?"

"My magic," she said slowly. "I- Well, I'm not very good am I?"

"You're not bad," Harry said, drawing out the last word. She gave him a dry look. "Well, you're not Crabbe and Goyle."

"Might as well be," Calla muttered. "They're probably better than me anyway."

"Don't say that," Harry said. "You're fine, Cal."

"I'm not."

"Well, then, you will be."

She sighed, laying her head down on the desk. "Thanks," she mumbled, though the words weren't settling in. In honesty, she wasn't sure if she really wanted them to. "Look," she said, as a group of yellow and black cloaks caught her eye. "The Hufflepuff are all over there. You said you're worried about everyone thinking this was you, right?"

"Are you trying to change the subject?"

"I'm trying to help you," Calla told him. "You obviously freaked Justin out, and me, and most people. But I think if you explained to Justin then it might help things a little, and smooth them over."

"You think?" he whispered in response, eyes wide.

"It can't hurt at least." Calla smiled. "I'll come with you, if you want me to."

With a nod, Harry smiled and stood up. Calla followed behind him, over to the table where the Hufflepuff sat, but before they could tell if Justin was among them Harry stopped and tugged her behind a shelf. She stared at him, but his cheeks flared red as he gestured to the group. "Listen," he mouthed.

Calla rolled her eyes but leaned forward, trying to hear. Maybe it would be easier to simply engage in conversation but Harry was a Gryffindor, and apparently that now meant that he simply enjoyed making his life difficult.

It was Ernie who was speaking. "... I told Justin to hide up in the dormitory for a while. I mean, if Potter has marked him out as his next victim after all of that, I suppose it would be best if he kept his head down and a low profile for a while. Of course," he went on as Calla gave Harry a nervous look, "Justin has been waiting for something of this sort to happen, after he let slip to Potter One that he was a muggleborn." Potter One? Calla rolled her eyes. "He told them that his name was down for Eton, that's hardly something you spread around when there are killer Slytherin Heirs running around the school, is it?"

"You really think it is the Potters, then, Ernie?" Hannah Abbott asked, voice low and anxious.

"Well," Ernie said, "maybe not Potter Two." Oh great, Calla thought. She was runner up in the murder Olympics. "She wasn't the one speaking Parseltongue, after all, and seemed just as shocked as anyone when her brother started hissing."

"It might be an act," another girl put in with a shudder - Calla didn't know her well but was fairly certain her name was Michelle.

"Either way," Ernie said, "everyone knows that being a Parselmouth is the mark of a dark wizard. Have you ever heard of a hero who could talk to snakes?" Calla rolled her eyes. Like that proved anything. Still, her stomach rolled uncomfortably cold. "They say," Ernie went on, dropping his voice mysteriously, "that Slytherin himself was known as Serpent-Tongue. And if this heir is the Heir of Slytherin… Well, maybe it runs in the family. You say what the writing said, too: enemies of the heir beware. Potter One-" there it was again "-had some run in with Filch, got given a detention, and the next thing you know Filch's Cat turns up petrified. That little Gryffindor, Colin Creevey, was annoying him all term, taking pictures of him, next thing you know, he's hit too. And," he said, drawing the others in closer, "according to Zach, it was the sister who found Colin that night." He raised his eye brows. "Sounds suspicious to me."

Calla's blood went cold. When it was all laid out like that, she could see why Ernie and the others were suspicious, but it unsettled her somewhat that Zach had told people she'd been the one to find Colin.

"But Calla's lovely though," Hannah said uncertainly. "And her brother always seemed so nice. He is the one who made-" her voice dropped "-You-Know-Who disappear, after all. He can't be all bad, can he?"

"That means he's powerful, though, doesn't it? Maybe You-Know-Who just didn't want him in the way, competing with another Dark Wizard. I want to know what other powers they're hiding. I know Calla can't do much magic but maybe-"

Before Calla could talk him out of his stupidity, Harry had leaped out from behind the shelf. "Hello," he said brightly, as the Hufflepuffs' faces turned to ash, "I'm looking for Justin Finch-Fletchley. Anybody seen him?"

Though her blood was cold from what Ernie had said, Calla scrambled to her feet too, poking out to stand beside her brother. "Hi," She squeaked our, cringing. Ernie paled further and Hannah snuck him a furtive glance. "Sorry, um, sorry to startle you. Harry wanted to apologise for spooking Justin last night." She looked at her brother. "Don't you, Harry?"

"Um, yes," Harry said. "I, er-"

"He didn't really realise what he was doing," Calla said, voice shaking. "No one told us about Parseltongue and, well, I don't really know how it works-"

"I thought everyone could do it," Harry said. His cheeks went pink. "I didn't realise that no-one knew what I was saying, not even Calla, so um… I'm sorry?"

"He's sorry," Calla said. She put on a bright smile. "So, Yeah."

"We all know what happened," Ernie said, rather boldly for someone greyer than a ghost.

"Then you'd know that I told the snake to leave Justin alone, not to attack anybody."

"All any of us saw," Ernie said, "was you talking to the snake and egging it on to try and hurt our friend."

"He wasn't hurting anyone," Calla said quietly. Hannah frowned in her direction and she umbled over her words. "Harry was just trying to help and he's said sorry, so… Now you know."

She made to walk away but Harry clearly wasn't done. "I wasn't egging it on!" he shouted, voice shaking from anger. "I was trying to get the snake away from Justin! It didn't even touch him!"

"It was close enough," Ernie said. "It was at a fatal spot to bite him. And in case either of you are getting ideas," he added hastily, "my family can actually be traced back through generations of wizard blood, pure as anybody else's, so-"

"Let's go, Harry," Calla huffed, tugging him away. "They're not worth it if they're not going to listen."

Harry tried to shout back over his shoulder but Calla dragged him back out the library. Her own heart was pounding as her blood boiling, but she couldn't stand there and watch Harry make things even worse and fight with Ernie. "You should have let me argue."

"And convince them that they're your next targets? No, thank you." She dropped Harry's arm. "I can't believe Zach told them I was there! I specifically told him not to!"

"I didn't know you told Zach."

"I was shaken up," Calla mumbled, chest heavy. "He asked if I was okay so I told him what I'd seen, but clearly he still-" She scowled, trying to force the words out from her body. "He still thinks I might somehow be an - an accomplice, or something."

"They're all talking nonsense," Harry told her scowling. He paused for a moment, like words were stuck on his tongue.

Calla looked at him. "What are you thinking?"

"I just… You don't think we could have?"

Calla wasn't sure she'd actually heard that question come out of her brother's mouth. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Well, possession and things… It might happen."

"Trust me, it didn't," she said with a scowl. But still, her stomach twisted. After all, her visions had been tied to the attacks recently. "I think."

Harry held her gaze, but she could see the nerves in his face. "You've seen them, haven't you? In your…" He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Visions."

"I have." She looked down. "I don't know, maybe it's linked."

"It won't be. Besides you don't speak Parseltongue, so it isn't either of us, right? We're not the Heirs."

"There's only ever one heir, technically," Calla said pursing her lips. "The eldest son."

Harry's face fell. "Oh."

"But it's not you," she said desperately. Why had she even said that? "It can't be and we know that."

"Yeah." He swallowed. "I suppose so."

After a moment, the two of them trod on, making their way along the corridor, but it was hardly a moment before Harry, lost in his thoughts, almost collided with Hagrid, coming down the other way.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"Hello, Hagrid," Calla said, as brightly as she could given the conversation she'd just had. "How are you?"

His face was hidden mostly, and a dead rooster hung from a gloved hands, but Calla knew it was him. After all, he was by far the largest person in Hogwarts. She backed away slightly, keeping her eyes away from the rooster.

He pushed up the balaclava so he could speak. "I'm alright, Harry, Calla, now that ye ask. What are you two doing out of class, eh?"

"Cancelled because of the weather," Harry said. Thankfully he didn't add that Calla was still not returning to Defense.

"What are you doing in here, Hagrid?" Calla asked, so he didn't realise that she and Harry didn't share Herbology.

To Calla's disgust, Hagrid held up the rooster. "This is the second one been killed this term," he said solemnly. "Might be foxes, I think, but I need the Headmaster's permission to Charm the coop to keep it out." Hagrid narrowed his eyes. "You two alright? Ye look a bit flustered."

"We're fine," Harry said quickly, with a sharp glance at Calla. Her chest pressed in tightly.

"We ought to get going, Hagrid," she said, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in her gut. "Transfiguration's next and we have to go and get our books now so we're not late for Professor McGonagall."

Just then, as she made her way past Hagrid, Calla's head began raining. She squeezed her eyes shut and clutched the cold stone walls. Not now, she thought, but as usual, her mind didn't listen.

"Cal?" Harry said quietly, with a hand on her shoulder. "Are you-"

A pair of great yellow eyes. Nearly Headless Nick, eyes blown wide in shock, and-

"Justin," she whispered, roaring back to the world. "Oh, this is the worst timing." She whipped around to look at her brother. "It's going after Justin and Nick. Oh, why?" She stomped her foot. "We have to stop it."

"You can do that?"

"If we're fast enough," Calla said, though she didn't believe it. There was a good chance that even if they tried they'd be too late, or they'd be hurt too. But she couldn't let someone else get hurt because of this. "Come on."

She grabbed her brother's wrist and dragged him down the corridor, around a corner where he air seemed darker and colder than usual. Glass was shattered on the floor, from a broken windowpane, and-

They were too late. The tightness in her chest exploded and she sank back, the air sucked out from her in a single breath. "We have to help," Harry said, already moving. Calla hung back, rooted to the floor, her legs refusing to work for her. "They're hurt."

Her eyes latched onto Nick, no longer translucent and grey but black and smoking. "But he's a ghost," she said. Harry stared back. "How… How can you kill a ghost?"

"Petrified," Harry said in response. "I - I think we should find someone, Dumbledore or… McGonagall?" It was too late. Calla could hear footsteps coming along the corridor but still she was stuck to the floor in fear, with no idea what to do. She should help, she knew, she needed to do more, do something, do anything.

There was a strange scuttling sound from the floor which Calla chose to focus on, trying to stop the tornado-like sounds of her mind, screaming and howling at her to run or help and stop this even though she didn't know how. Spiders were scurrying along the ground, fleeing from the bodies. She frowned, and was about to speak when someone else did it for her.

"Ooh, potty wee Potters!" cackled Peeves the Poltergeist. He bounced past Harry, dancing around Calla. "What're the Potters doing lurking-"

He stopped in the middle of a cartwheel, eyes falling on Justin and Nick. A ball of dread dropped into the very pit of Calla's stomach. "Peeves, don't-"

"Attack! There's been another attack! Run, run for your lives! Attaaaack!"

His voice rang throughout the castle and soon enough, students began flooding out of classrooms and into the corridor. Calla and Harry both wound up shoved against the walls as people began to surround the bodies, clamouring for a look at them.

It was McGonagall who stopped the stampede, setting off a loud bang with her wand. "Back to your classes!" she ordered. There was grumbling as students slinked back, but just as Calla and Harry tried to make an inconspicuous exit, Ernie MacMillan came thundering along the corridor and stopped before them, pointing a shaking white finger. With far more melodrama than Calla thought necessary, he declared them, "Caught in the act!"

"That will be enough, Mr MacMillan," McGonagall said crisply.

What few students still lingered were sent scurrying by her sharp looks, but it was Peeves who kept up the absurd drama of the moment. "Potters you rotters, oh what have you done? You're killing off students, such good fun!"

"Peeves!" McGonagall barked and he stuck his tongue out, backflipping down the corridor and disappearing through a wall.

Someone came to take Justin and Nick away, but Calla barely registered it, that dread in her stomach crawling up. It was less the fear that she'd somehow done this than that she'd caused it; or rather, that her visions had.

Every one of the petrifications had happened only after she'd seen it happen. What if… She shook her head, but the idea stayed and she felt sick to her stomach. They'd all come true, every vision. What if she was unknowingly condemning the victims to their fates by seeing what would happen? Once it was known, it couldn't be unknown.

"I think I'm going to be sick," she whispered, and Harry darted over, holding her back. Tears fell from her eyes and the back of her throat burned, head fuzzy. She squeezed her eyes shut, cheeks blazing. "Sorry," she said once the nausea had passed, and forced herself to stand upright. Her legs trembled.

"Potter," McGonagall said crisply, gesturing to both of them. "With me."

"Professor, we didn't do-"

"This is out of my hands I'm afraid, Potter." McGonagall's cloak swept on the floor behind her as she led them down the corridor, through Hogwarts and Calla realised with a sinking feeling that she was bringing them to Dumbledore. Dumbledore who knew about her visions and that she was absolutely meant to have been in Defense.

"Lemon drop," McGonagall said curtly. The gargoyle at the door leapt aside and the stone stairway appeared, swivelling around to greet them. McGonagall stepped on and Calla followed, Harry behind her.

This was going to be a nightmare to explain.

McGonagall left them to wait on the Headmaster, declaring that she had to return to her class but that he would be with them soon enough. Calla didn't think they would get away with trying to leave. Instead, she sat on her hands on one of the seats before his desk, trying to think of a better reason why she wasn't in Defense other than "I think Lockhart's an idiot". Maybe Dumbledore would give her points for honesty, even if she was definitely in trouble.

"I didn't know Dumbledore had a pet bird," Harry said, drawing her attentions. Calla stared at the cage Fawkes was held in and frowned, only now realising how withered the bird looked. His feathers were faded and drooping, falling off. He looked like he might drop dead at any moment.

"He's a Phoenix," she said quietly, before returning her gaze to the desk.

She could tell Dumbledore she'd been let out of class but she doubted he'd believe that. Frankly, anyway she tried to spin it would make her even more suspicious. Maybe he would be right to be suspicious, after all, if her visions theory was correct.

It was all such a mess. Calla laid her head down on the desk, chest aching and trying not to burst into tears. If she had caused this... She didn't know how she could forgive herself. She didn't know how anyone could.

"Calla," Harry said, in a small voice. "Cal?"

She ignored him, trying to focus her thoughts. You are not a killer, she reminded herself. There's no way you did this and there's no way that Harry-

"Calla, I think I killed the bird."

She snapped her head up, fear striking her heart. "Harry, you have got to be kidding me."

He shook his head, face pale, and gestures to Fawkes, who now appeared to be a pile of ash in the bottom of his cage. Dumbstruck, all Calla could do was stare, as Dumbledore swept into the room.

"Mr and Miss Potter," he greeted. "I hear you have had some form of an incident today?"

"It wasn't us," Harry blurted our hastily. "But um, you - I don't know what happened to your bird, either, it just... This just happened."

Calla winced, but Dumbledore appeared to have a twinkle in his eye. "So you've met Fawkes, then, Harry. I believe Calla is already acquainted."

"Yes," she mumbled.

"Then you'll remember, Miss Potter, that Fawkes is a phoenix." Both of them looked at Dumbledore blankly, not sure on the significance of the species. "Every so often, a phoenix, will wither and die, burst into flames and turn to Ash." That was delightful, Calla thought sarcastically. "But they always rise again, newborn. It is the life cycle, that they are destined always to be reborn, over and over. One of many properties of the phoenix. They carry great loads, and their tears can heal."

"Their feathers are used in wands, aren't they?" Calla asked, with a frown. "Harry has one in his."

"Indeed." Dumbledore regarded Harry coolly, and Calla shifted away nervously. "Their feathers are highly prized in the wandmaking business."

"Right," Harry said.

"It's a shame you had to see him on Burning Day," Dumbledore said, wistfully. "He is really quite beautiful, wonderful red and gold plumage."

Then, it went silent, and Calla shifted uncertainly in her seat with a twisting stomach. Harry too, took a seat next to her, shooting her a nervous, shaky smile. Dumbledore sat on the other side of the desk, fingertips steepled together as he watched them with that icy blue stare of his. Beside her, Calla could feel Harry shudder.

"Professor," she began nervously, sensing that her brother wasn't about to start speaking, "we really-"

The door to the office burst open and they both reeled around, staring as Hagrid burst through the door with wild eyes, black balaclava perched on his head and that horrid dead rooster still swinging from his hand. Calla stared. "It was'n them Professor, it was'n Harry 'n Calla! I was with them just 'fore it happened, it could'n have bin them, they'd nev'r had the time, sir! It can't have bin them, sir, why, Id swear it in front o' the Ministry itself if I had ter!"

"Hagrid, I-"

"Ye've got the wrong ones, Professor, they-"

"Hagrid!" Dumbledore shouted, holding his hand up for silence. "I do not believe that either Harry or Calla did this."

By her side, Harry let out a heavy breath.

"Alright then " Hagrid said awkwardly. "Well, erm, I'll be off then." He fumbled his way back out of the office, and clicked the door closed behind him.

"You really don't think it was us, Professor?" Harry asked, hopefully.

"No." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled slightly. "I do not, Harry. However, I do still wish to speak with you both. I must ask you both... Is there anything you wish to tell me?" His eyes searched their faces. "Anything at all?"

They were quiet for a moment, not giving anything away. It was Harry who spoke. "No, Professor."

Dumbledore's eyes flicked to Calla. She bit her lip nervously, heart thundering. "Nothing, Professor."

"Then you may go, Harry. Miss Potter, am I correct in thinking you were meant to be in your Defense Against the Dark Arts class at the time of the incident?"

Her blood felt like it had frozen over and Harry gave her a sympathetic look as he left. "You are, Professor," she said in a small voice. Her stomach curled in on itself and she looked down. "I'm sorry. I know I should have been there."

"Miss Potter, you know your marks at the end of last year were far below our standards. You made a promise that you would improve this year, but you cannot do that if you continue to make a habit of missing classes."

"I know, Professor." She couldn't force herself to speak much more. Her hands shook a little, fingers going so numb they were almost cold. "I'm sorry. But Lockhart..."

"Professor Lockhart."

"He doesn't teach much. Or well. I wanted to work on Transfiguration, because that's a class that I think I can improve on."

"And you don't think you can improve in your Defense classes?"

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "No, Professor. Not with Lockhart teaching. I've already spoken to Professor Flitwick about this."

"Miss Potter, I must ask that you try. Perhaps Professor Lockhart is not the best teacher for your learning style, but that doesn't not mean that attending class isn't beneficial to your learning or to your overall welfare, as one of my students."

"All he does is talk about himself," Calla said at last, sullenly. "He makes Harry and me demonstrate all the great things he says that he's done, but it makes us both uncomfortable and I don't agree with what he says about werewolves." She glanced up, trying to meet Dimbledore's eyes while not bursting into tears. "I'll do extra work for other classes but I really don't want to go."

"I'm afraid I cannot make exceptions for you, Miss Potter."

"But Dumbledore-"

"Calla," he said. She bit her tongue and glanced back down with a slight scowl. "I understand your reasoning and I understand your frustration. But you must also understand I cannot be seen making an exception for one student or else I am sure I would have a tide of students asking to miss History of Magic because they believe it boring, or Potions because they find it too difficult." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose just underneath his half-moon spectacles. "You have your first lesson with Professor Trelawney tomorrow night. If it goes well, perhaps we can see about you taking extra Divination and tutoring during some of your scheduled classes with Professor Lockhart."

A small dork of hope flared up in her chest. "You think? Would that... Would that be okay?"

"We will see how your learning progresses," Dumbledore said. "It is only a possibility for now."

"Thank you, Professor!" Calla said, relieved. "And I'll work really really hard with Professor Trelawney, I promise, I'll be the best student Seer in Hogwarts!"

To her relief, Dumbledore let out a small laugh. "You may go, Miss Potter. And feel free to tell your brother everything we've discussed, no doubt he overheard it all anyway behind my door."

Calla bit her lip to stifle a laugh, and stood up, making her way to the door. She paused a little, considering whether she should mention that she'd seen a vision of Justin, but decided against it. She'd have a handle on it, and didn't want to ruin what she managed to arrange already. "Thank you, Professor," she said finally, before turning and leaving.


	28. Ch27 - Sybil Trelawney

The Divination classroom was at the very top of the North Tower, a part of the castle that Calla had never explored before. She got lost three times on the way there, even with the aid of the Marauder's Map. By the time she finally reached the top of the narrow staircase, she was out of breath, and painted as she stared upwards at the ceiling, and the trapdoor that was fixed there, locked. She swallowed nervously, not entirely certain what to do. "Um, hello?" she called into the silence, feeling quite silly. "It's Calla Potter, I - I'm to see Professor Trelawney?"

The trapdoor swung open and a silver ladder dropped down, narrowly avoiding hitting Harry's forehead as she darted out of the way. A small woman peered out, looking rather like an insect - a beetle, perhaps, if the gauzy green shawl was to add anything to the effect - with round eyes like a mouse, and a shock of red curls that spilled from her pale face, tied back by a green and purple headband. Calla swallowed nervously. "Um, hello?" she said. "I'm Calla?"

"Ah yes, my dear," Trelawney - well, at least Calla hoped it was Trelawney - said in an airy voice, blinking her great wide eyes. "Come, my dear child, join me."

Unsure, Calla clambered up the ladder, poking her head into Trelawney's classroom. It was different, to say the very least, from any of the other Hogwarts classrooms. The most accurate comparison Calla could think of was that it was the absolute opposite of Snape's. She wondered if he'd ever studied Divination in this room, and smothered a laugh.

Scarves of various colours - red, blue, gold, green - were draped across and over the top of the windows, and incense burned on various tables, making the room glow strangely with a red light through the smoke. Rather than the usual wooden desks and chairs were round tables with armchairs, a bit like on might find in a tea room, or at Mrs Figg's house. The room was circular, and the shelves were crammed full of tea cups, pots, crystal balls, feathers, candles, stacks of cards and a few scattered, cracked leather books.

"Make yourself comfortable, dear," Trelawney said, her silks trailing after her as she half-walked, half-danced across the room. "Sit, sit." Trelawney herself took a seat in a winged armchair next to the rounded table in front of the fireplace, and gestures to the one across from her. Tentatively, Calla crosses the room and sat down. "My name is Professor Trelawney, to assuage any doubt." Calla nodded politely, not quite sure what she thought of the woman yet. "You may not have seen me around the school often, for I find being amongst the hustle and bustle has a tendency to cloud my inner eye somewhat. I don't suspect you have a similar ailment, from what Dumbledore has told me of you?"

Calla blinked, and then shook her head quickly. "No, Professor Trelawney."

She let out a small huff, then picked up a rather dusty looking teapot from the floor. "Tea?" she asked and Calla nodded. She didn't like tea much, but thought it might be impolite to refuse someone's tea on the first meeting. Besides, Professor Trelawney was one professor she absolutely had to make a good impression upon. As far as she knew, she was the only other person in Hogwarts with what Dumbledore had called the Sight.

Trelawney poured out a rather lukewarm cup and Calla sipped it, watching the Professor over the rim of the fine china. "Thank you, Professor," she said quietly, setting her cup down.

"Normally upon my taking in a new class of students I would warn them of the struggles they will have with Divination. It is the most difficult of all the magical arts, and is not something that may be learned from textbooks. For those who do not have the Sight, it is near impossible. But you do have the Sight, my dear, and from what I hear it is strong within you."

"Yes, Professor," Calla said, with a nervous smile. Her sight was too strong, she thought, but wasn't sure if she ought to tell Professor Trelawney that or not.

"Do you know of the thirteen instrumental arts of Divination?" Trelawney asked suddenly, eyes seeming to get even larger behind her circular glasses.

"No, Professor," Calla told her uncertainly. Should she? No one had mentioned them to her before. "I only really have my visions, I don't... I don't do much else."

Trelawney's gaze landed with scrutiny upon her.

"I see," she mused. "Tea leaves are often the first thing, followed by Palmistry. There are eleven more Divining Arts, each of them complex and mysterious in their own ways. There is astrology, the study of the stars; cartomancy, which involves Divining from cards; crystal-gazing; dream interpretation; heptomology, which is the study of the number seven and has its roots in Arithmancy, though I would not recommend its study. Professor Vector is rather dull company." Calla bit down a laugh. "Pyromancy is Divining from flames and fire omens; Ichthyomancy involves the use of fish-" Calla tried to hide her distaste at that possibility "-yes, it is not my favoured method, I find it to be rather brutalist, though for some its practice can be the key to unclouding the inner eye." Calla nodded again. "Ornithomancy is far more tasteful, using the birds instead of fish, scrying sees across the distances in space rather than time. I believe it may be similar to what you experience, though most scrying is aided by mirrors."

Calla frowned. "That's only twelve though isn't it?"

"I said eleven, dear."

At that, Calla stared, but Trelawney seemed unconcerned. "You said two and then that there were eleven others."

At first, Trelawney frowned, looking like she was trying to think backwards. Calla wondered if she was so used to seeing the future that she thought in reverse now and could not remember the past. That was a strange thought, but it didn't sound like it was an impossibility. "There is amniomancy," Trelawney said slowly. "The most untameable of all the Divining arts, the use of prophecy." The word chilled Calla.

"Is that like what I use?"

"I do not know yet, my child," Trelawney said sweetly, then gestured to the teacup. "Drink up."

She did as she was told, taking a slurp. It wasn't bad tea necessarily, but Calla did have to wonder how long it had been in the classroom for. Did tea get better with age, like wine, or did it mush?

"So," she said slowly, her words awkward. "Um, I should probably warn you I'm not very good at magic, Professor."

"You have the Sight," Trelawney said simply. "That is what truly matters in this classroom, my child. Tell me what happens."

Calla wasn't quite certain of herself, but she told Trelawney anyway, everything that she had seen and when and how and where. She wasn't entirely sure Trelawney took it all in - at one point she took back the teacup and set about tidying her shelves. When Calla was done, she nodded, humming, and put an empty teacup in front of her, with only soggy tea leaves in the bottom. Then, she pulled out a book - 'The Dream Oracle' - and laid that next to Calla's teacup.

"You'll enjoy this book," she said. "Though my child I must advise caution this year - be careful with corners."

"Corners." Calla stared. It didn't quite make sense, but she supposed her visions didn't either. "Is that how you divine, Professor? Like, premonitions?"

"My dear, I divine by all methods," Trelawney told her. "But, Yes, I do have a certain affinity for speaking the future before I even know it myself. In time it may be a skill you develop again, an extra form of intuition and instinct."

"Like a sixth sense? That's not quite what I have."

"I began with speaking prophecies. I was not sure what to do and so I suppressed the ability instead of learning to control it." Trelawney glanced at Calla and she shuddered, partly at the thought and partly because it felt like it fit the general vibe. "Now I use a variety of methods. Reading and studying tea leaves - tessamancy - is one of them." She nudged the teacup. "Tell me what you see, child."

She was rather uncertain - shouldn't they be focusing on how to stop her from blacking out every time she had a vision and not being able to control it? - but nodded swiftly, glancing in the cup. For a moment it looked just like some tea leaves in a cup, and Calla felt a bit foolish. But it was like a fog clearing in her mind's eye.

The tea leaves separated against the background of the cup, creating an image. She frowned. It looked like a rectangle, if she was being honest but... "A book?" She looked at Trelawney. "What does that mean?"

"The tea leaves often hold various meanings," Trelawney mused. "A closed book means searching for wisdom or skills you have not yet attained, or that you are shrouded in Secrets." She looked at Calla in concern. "Is there anything you're hiding from someone, dear, anything you're too scared to tell."

She swallowed deeply. If she thought about it- but no. She wouldn't go there, there was nothing she was really hiding. "Not in particular," she sad breezily.

Trelawney have her a scrutinising look. "It will get better," she said breezily. Calla stared, again. It felt like she was staring a lot.

"What will?"

"Your magic. But you must work at it, and you must be eager to learn."

"Of course," she said quickly, though she could feel her cheeks burning. How had Trelawney known what she was thinking? Was that a form of Divination, too, that she could learn? "Professor, how does this relate to my visions, though? I need to be able to control them."

She smiled a half-smile, like a crescent moon or a Cheshire Cat. "First you must learn what control is, and second what it is you truly need to control."

"It's my visions," Calla said, confused. "I have to stop having them at random times when it's important, and to see stuff I need to see. Not just... Silly things. Like books or - or keys. I saw keys once and that was it how am I supposed to know what that means? Am I unlocking a door, is someone else, it doesn't help anything!"

Trelawney sighed. "I worried the same things. For now it does not matter. You must first understand your inner eye and it's functionings in order to be able to use it to its full potential. Not many are blessed with the Sight but you, child, must make the most of your abilities."

"But how-"

"Sh." Trelawney pointed to the teacup. "The leaves. Do you still see a book?"

"Yes," Calla said quietly.

"Read through this." From under the chair, Trelawney pulled a copy of 'Unfogging the Future'. "It will give you guidance, as will the other."

The trapdoor swung open and Calla startled. "I shall see you again soon, Calla. Perhaps sooner than expected."

A bit shaken, Calla nodded hastily, grabbed the two books and scampered down the ladder. She leaned against the stone wall, trying to stop the roar of her mind. That wasn't what she'd anticipated but... Well, it was better than nothing. And at least she wasn't the only psychic weirdo in Hogwarts.

xxxx

As it happened, Trelawney appeared in Calla's Transfiguration classroom only two days after their lesson together. Everyone turned as she waltzed into the room, and Calla could see the look of confusion on Harry's face as he - and the rest of the class - tried fruitlessly to piece together who she was.

"Professor," McGonagall said in her crisp voice. "What pleasure do I owe, Sybil?"

"I have had… A premonition, Professor."

Trelawney's voice seemed to take on a more dramatic quality than Calla recalled from their lesson. "A premonition," McGonagall said flatly. "I see."

"Who is that?" Ron hissed. Hermione shrugged, frowning, and for once Calla felt a slight smugness at knowing something neither she nor Ron did.

"Professor Trelawney," she said with a smile. Harry nodded in newly dawned recognition. "Divination."

Hermione wrinkled her nose, watching as she spoke to McGonagall, hand actions wide and wild. "She seems a bit odd," she observed and Calla looked at her.

"She's nice," she said, more defensively than she'd intended. She craned her neck to get a look over Harry's shoulder at the conversation swiftly unfolding at the desk.

Eventually, McGonagall sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Miss Potter," she called out and Calla sat up straighter, something akin to nerves glaring in her chest.

"Yes, Professor McGonagall?"

"You are to go to Professor Trelawney's classroom at the end of the day." She gave Trelawney a sharp look when she opened her mouth to protest. "No earlier."

Calla nodded nervously.

"How do you know who the Divination Professor is?" Hermione asked as they left the classroom later on, making their way along the corridor to their next class.

"I didn't even know her," Ron said.

She floundered for what to say for a moment. Seeing her discomfort, Harry said quickly, "She um, met us last year when we were getting our things for Hogwarts in Diagon Alley, right?" He glanced at Calla in thet way that told her to just go along with what he was saying and she nodded eagerly.

"Apparently she'd seen us coming."

"I didn't recognise her at first," Harry was continuing. "But Calla's always had a better memory than me."

Hermione and Ron seemed to accept that answer, nodding. Padma have Calla a questioning look but before she could ask any further, a weight dropped into place at Calla's other side, falling into step with them. "What's all this about a Divination Professor wanting to see you, Cal?"

"Inore her," Padma murmured, hastening her step.

"What?" Daphne called, racing to catch up. "Come on, Pads, all I'm doing is asking."

"Yeah, and we're not talking to you, so." Padma grabbed Calla's arm and they veered off to the left. Calla looked back at Daphne with wide eyes as they descended down a dark corridor, turning a corner, not sure if she should apologise or argue or try to talk some sense and diffuse whatever situation was building.

"You're holding my arm really tight," she said in a quiet voice, and Padma let go, sucking in a breath.

"Sorry," she said quietly. "I just… She makes me so angry!" To prove her point, Padma kicked at a stone wall, only to hide and grab her toe. "That was stupid. Sorry. She just… She needs to sort out her priorities. She can't just stop talking to us, hang with the Slytherins, give no explanation, start accusing first Hagrid and then you and Harry of all people!" She groaned in frustrated, leaning her head against the stones. Calla smiled softly, standing beside her.

"It doesn't bother me," Calla told her. Padma gave her a sharp look. "That she accused me. I know I didn't do anything, and if I'm honest I think she knows too." She shrugged. "I've no idea what's going on with her recently. I guess she has her reasons, but-"

"But they're stupid reasons? And she doesn't really have much justification at all for the fact that she just ditched us with absolutely no care."

"I was going to say that she struggles to explain herself." She reaches out to squeeze her friend's hand, hoping it was some comfort. Padma was more upset than she was, it was clear. "But I agree. And I get why you're upset."

"Thanks." Padma swallowed, leaning her head on Calla's shoulder. "I… You know I don't like talking about stuff like… Emotional stuff." Calla nodded, not sure what might follow. "But lately, I don't know, I guess I've just felt a little out of it. Parvati hangs out with Lavender more than with me and I get it, they're best friends but-"

"You're her twin?" Calla supposed she could sympathise a little; it had felt weird at first when they came to Hogwarts and suddenly Harry had other friends who weren't her. "I get it. You know she still loves you, but…"

"It's hard to talk like we used to," Padma said. "And, I don't know. You and Harry talk most, and Ron and Hermione argue with each other even more and I'm just caught in the middle, and I know none of you mean it but without Daphne it just feels even worse-"

Calla cut her off, pulling Padma into a hug. Her heart ached realising that she hadn't really thought about how her other friends felt with all of the Chamber of Secrets stuff going on, especially Padma. "I'm sorry," she said, and felt Padma shake her head.

"It's hardly your fault Daphne's being a bitch."

"No," Calla agreed slowly. "But I should have realised how unhappy you were."

For a moment neither of them spoke, before Padma drew away, smiling shakily. She wiped at her glistening eyes. "Okay," she said, taking a deep breath. "I'm okay now."

"You're sure?" Calla asked. Padma gave a brisk nod.

"Yeah. I will be."

"We can stay here another minute if you want. Binns won't notice if we're late to History."

xxxx

"Professor Trelawney?"

Calla had just gotten out of History of Magic, and had gone straight to Trelawney's classroom. Harry and the others had gone off to check on the Polyjuice Potion, which, according to Hermione, was near to being ready in time for Christmas. Neither Calla nor Harry were particularly happy about potentially having to miss out on Christmas Dinner with Uncle Moony, but Hermione said that apparently 'needs must'.

"A moment, dear," Trelawney called in her strange voice, gritty against the heavy. Calla shuffled into the classroom awkwardly, not certain of where to stand. "Ah, you arrived just as the sun begins its slow descent into the dark."

Calla glanced out the window, noted that the sun was setting in far more simple terms than Trelawney had deemed necessary, and looked back as the Divination Professor hurried into the room. "Take a seat, take a seat, make yourself at home."

Gingerly, Calla slipped into a seat. "Now," Trelawney said, sitting opposite her. "My dear, I have foretold great troubles for you in this year, which I felt I must inform you of at once."

Calla's heart plunged. "Yes?" She had to push the words out. "What - what have you seen, Professor?"

"Sybil," she said absently, shuffling cards on the desk and levitating them into a box.

"What?"

"That is my name, dear. Feel free to use it." Before Calla could reply, Trelawney - Sybil - had reached across the desk to clasp her hands and she jumped a little in surprise. Her hands were unusually cold. "You are in grave danger," Trelawney told her, breath rattling. Calla felt her face drain of warmth. "Both you - you and your brother. If you are to remain at Hogwarts, great and terrible things will unfold. It is not safe for you, my child."

"Is it about the chamber of secrets?"

She realised instantly she shouldn't have asked. Trelawney snatched her hands away and let out a moan, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. "You know my child, already, you know! I fear it may be too late to save you!"

"Save me?" Calla did not like where this conversation was going. "From what? Is the heir after me?" A bought struck her, piercing and cold. "Is - is the heir someone I know?"

"We must not speak of this."

"But you brought it up-"

"My child, a great evil is at work in this castle and beneath it. I fear you are ill-prepared for what is to come."

"Do you know what's to come?" Calla leaned forward. "Prof- Sybil?" Trelawney's eyes lurched up. "Please tell me what's happening. I can try and stop it and so can my brother."

"My dear, you must not interfere!" Trelawney said, hand trembling. "You are in grave danger."

"You've already said that, but what-"

"The heir," Trelawney said, voice low. "You must protect yourself at all costs, Calla, for you are in danger like you have never dreamed, and -" She broke off for a moment, and curled in on herself like she was trying to use her shawl as a shell and retreat into it. "My child, the path of your fate is a winding one, with many forks. I cannot see where it goes for certain, but you must be careful, proceed with caution." Trelawney clasped Calla's hands again and her blood went cold. "Your path may soon be a dead end."


	29. Ch28 - Polyjuice Potion

Needless to say, Trelawney's words hung over Calla's head for the next few days, as she grew continuously restless. It was only a few days before the Christmas holidays when she had her first tutoring with Dumbledore, but she didn't particularly want to attend.

She'd had to do mid-year tests for all of her subjects, to ensure that she was on the right path to passing her exams at the end of the year. Charms, History of Magic, and Astronomy had all gone well, and she thought she might maybe end up with two Es out of those three, especially considering Charms was the only one with an actual, magical practical portion. As for Potions, Transfiguration and Herbology, passing would be a blessing, after her potion had been merely grey sludge, and she'd taken seven tries for her spell to have any effect in Transifguration. Defense Against the Dark Arts was, well, best not spoken about. At Dumbledore's request, she'd returned to those lessons, but they were entirely pointless and she refused to acknowledge Lockhart, which she could tell infuriated him, but she found herself not caring. She should care, she knew that, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. The test he'd given her was ridiculous anyway, mostly about the names of people he'd saved, his favourite books, and what colours best brought out his eyes.

Hopefully Dumbledore wouldn't mind awfully if she got a T in that class (which Ron had helpfully informed her was the worst mark she could possibly get).

She was still nervous. He was teaching her Occlumency, yes, but her test results would also be in his possession now and she didn't honestly want to disappoint him. More than that, she knew Uncle Moony would be told, and he'd always put faith and pride in her. She didn't want to let him down most of all.

"Miss Potter," Dumbledore greeted her when she finally got up the courage to enter his office. "How pleasant to see you. I hope you have had a good day?"

She nodded. "Yes. And you, Professor?"

"Ah, well, I have had a day," he said, with a twinkle in his eyes. "The clouds, however, have rather dulled my mood. Hopefully we might get a sprinkling of snow, though."

"Yeah." Calla's eyes flicked to the seat in front of Dumbledore's desk and back to him.

"Take a seat, take a seat," he said warmly, as she did so. "Now, I know you're here for Occlumency, but I thought it would be useful to inform you of your results from your subject tests. Professor Flitwick sent them to me a half hour ago, and I do want to say that I found myself rather pleased." A small weight was lifted from Calla's shoulders. "Professor Binns gave you an O in History of Magic."

"No way!" Calla caught herself. "I mean, that's... Good, Professor. Thank you."

Dumbledore smiled. "As for Charms and Astronomy, you received Es in each, and two A grades in Transfiguration and Herbology." He paused, and Calla swallowed. Here it was. "Your Potions theory test, Professor Snape informed me, was deserving of a high E. However, with your practical grade added in, you were one mark off of achieving an A."

She wasn't particularly surprised, considering she was always better at theory and the practical had been completely abysmal. But she still couldn't stop herself from feeling downhearted about it, like she'd failed all the people who'd believed she could do better this year. And she was so close to passing, too. "And Defense?"

"A D." For dreadful, Calla thought.

"Well," she said, feigning cheer. "At least it's not a T for Troll."

"Indeed." Dumbledore steepled his fingers together. "However, Miss Potter, it is still not an A."

Maybe if Hogwarts ever got a competent DADA teacher, Calla thought to herself bitterly. To Dumbledore, she said, "I'm working on it."

"I see." He stood. "In that case, we will begin to go over the basics of Occlumency. You will not be learning the full strength magic that most would use to guard against external mental attacks, such as from Legilimency, but rather a form intended to guard against your own mind. We will focus on learning to separate thoughts from feelings, from clearing your mind and pushing out thoughts that are unwanted."

"Okay," Calla said, biting her lip. She felt a little queasy, but it would be wholly embarrassing to tell Dumbledore that. "How am I meant to do that?"

Dumbledore smiled. "In time. First, I'd like you to think on anything that may be worrying you, to focus on your negative thoughts and cast them away. They may be interfering with your usual thought process and manifesting that negativity in the form of your visions. If you can control your thought process and emotions, you may then be able to control your magic better."

Calla thought it should be fairly obvious to Dumbledore what was worrying her, as it was worrying the whole of the rest of Hogwarts, too. The Heir of Slytherin hadn't been found, and Justin and Nick's attack had only made things worse. "Well, Miss Potter?"

She blinked. "Oh, you - you want me to... Tell you?"

"If you want to. It may help."

"Well, um." She bit her lip. "There's obviously the issue of the Heir of Slytherin. Anyone I know could be targeted, and so I guess that's kind of weighing on me, but it's not like... That's not a me thing, that's something that's happening, so I don't really know how to stop worrying about that. And, well, I guess exams and stuff, too." She frowned. "I don't really know, Professor."

"Ah," Dumbledore said with a mystical smile, "to have a mind so young. Think on it, Miss Potter, but enjoy your Christmas holidays. Though I believe your name is on the list of students staying here at Hogwarts?"

"That's correct, Professor."

"Then I may be seeing you around the castle. Rest your mind, and put away your worries. We will continue this in January."

She stared, frowning. "Wait, that's it?"

"You may go, Miss Potter."

After another moment, Calla stood up, not entirely certain what had been achieved by her coming to see Dumbledore in the first place. Still, she smiled and said a mumbled, "Goodbye, thank you, Professor Dumbledore."

xxxx

The Christmas holidays were more than welcome when they arrived, at last. Though most of the castle had left, due in no small part to the recent attacks, it seemed that the only people left in the castle were Calla, Padma, Hermione, the Weasleys, Daphne and Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. They hadn't asked Daphne to join them or hinted that they would be staying to her, but she'd decided to stay anyway, for reasons Calla couldn't discern. She kept out of their way, though, to Padma's relief. The two of them had spent an awful lot of time with Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys in Gryffindor Tower, playing at Exploding Snap and watching the twins' antics.

Calla hadn't experienced a Hogwarts Christmas before, though according to Ron the year before had been spectacular. She couldn't help but notice, however, that Ginny Weasley didn't appear to be enjoying herself much.

"Come on," she'd said to her one day, as she Padma and Hermione bundled up. "Come have a snowball fight with us. We need someone to even out the teams."

"I'm fine," Ginny had replied quietly. When asked, all she'd said was wrong was that she missed her friends, though Hermione had whispered once to Calla that she didn't think Ginny had many friends in Gryffindor at all.

Harry, of course, was oblivious to all of this.

It didn't put a damper on Christmas Day itself, however. Though Padma didn't personally celebrate it, she'd been excited for the feast that was to unfold - desserts were said to be even better on Christmas than they were usually, and considering Hogwarts' usual standard of cakes... Calla's stomach was growling just to think of it.

She didn't open her presents until she and Harry were together, sitting at the middle table in the Great Hall, that usually belonged to Ravenclaw House. Daphne sat down the other end, watching them curiously, but when Malfoy called her over she went running and Calla didn't catch her eye again.

"Hermione says it's ready for tonight," Harry whispered to Calla as he exchanged his present. She didn't have to ask to know he meant the Polyjuice Potion. "You've kept the hair?"

A few days before the end of term, Padma had taken the hairs of Pansy Parkinson and Tracey Davis, two other Slytherin first year girls in Herbology when they'd had to team up to pot mandrakes. "Padma's got it under control."

"Good." Harry stepped away. "Uh, I hope you like the present. I didn't really know what to get you, so I figured if nothing else it would keep you warm."

With a smile, Calla took off the wrapping paper and burst into a laugh. "A Gryffindor scarf?"

"There's matching gloves, too," Ron added, coming to Calla's side. "I told him to get them."

"You have excellent taste," Calla told Ron, who went a bit pink.

"Yeah, well, I figured it'd be... Nice."

Calla bit back a laugh as Harry opened the present she'd gotten him, a box of Honeydukes chocolate Uncle Moony had recommended and a copy of 'Potions for Dummies'. He'd protested at that, but still grinning, and said she'd have to wear his present to the next Quidditch game - which was Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw - as payback.

As Calla learnt throughout the day, a Hogwarts Christmas was a Christmas like no other. Apart from the absolute beauty that was the desserts, every course was delicious. In between food, they pulled crackers, though these weren't any crackers - when they were pulled apart they went off with great bangs, bursting with pink or purple sparks, and instead of hats, jokes, and little tricks, Calla's prizes included white chocolate mice which ran laps around the table before she caught them, and a set of red and white tongs that snapped at Ron's nose until he tore them away and sent a very pathetic set of sparks at them, which caused the once proud tongs to collapse onto the tabletop and lie motionless.

"You've ruined my cracker prize," Calla was still grumbling as the five of them - her, Ron, Harry, Hermione and Padma - made their early exit from the Great Hall.

"They were about to pull my nose off, Calla!" Ron protested. "I had to do something!"

"Yeah, cause your nose is so important, right," Padma said, rolling her eyes.

When they were sure that no one was watching them, they veered off and made their way to the First Floor Bathroom, where Moaning Myrtle greeted them with a wail. "Merry Christmas to me!" she cried, before promptly bursting into tears and diving into a toilet with a splash.

Calla wrinkled her nose. It didn't feel like a particularly good omen.

"You three," Hermione glanced at Harry, Padma and Ron, "know what you're going to do, yes?"

Ron nodded. "Got the cupcakes right here."

"And Calla, you have your hair from Pansy Parkinson?"

She held up her vial. "I'm prepared," she said, with a smug look to Harry and Ron. "Well, Hermione, are we ready?"

Hermione nodded, leading them to a cubicle at the far end of the bathroom. The five of them crowded in, though Ron still sort of lingered in the doorway, half of him in the open bathroom, since it was a bit of a squeeze. Calla looked down at the bubbling, sludge-brown potion and grimaced. It didn't look nearly as appetising as the feast they'd just had, that was for certain.

"You three go and deal with Crabbe, Goyle and Tracey Davis," Hermione instructed to Harry, Ron and Padma, who made their way quickly out to the Great Hall. "Calla, can you stand guard outside the door and make sure no one comes in."

"Why me?" Calla grumbled, not really fancying standing against a wall in an empty corridor on her own.

"Because people believe you about things," Hermione said. "If anyone asks, just say that Myrtle's upset, I'm trying to calm her down, and she doesn't want anyone else to go in."

Rolling her eyes, Calla slid past Hermione and made her way out of the bathroom into the corridor. It was cold, and she tried not to let her eyes fixate on the stains of blood that were still present on the wall opposite. Hopefully the other three would be back soon, without any hitches in the plan, and they could get this over with.

Waiting, Calla's eyes fell on a group of spiders by the wall, scuttling along the floor. Stifling a shriek, she stepped away, backing to the other side of the corridor. She didn't hate spiders, not in the same way that Ron did, but the way they moved was definitely creepy. She'd never seen so many in one place, moving in sync, like they were running away from something.

She shuddered to think what they might be running away from.

"What are you up to?" Calla whirled around at the sound of Daphne's voice, stomach plummeting.

The blonde girl stalked over to her, flipping her hair. "I know you're up to something." She wrinkled her nose. "And What are you doing here, of all places?"

"Myrtle's upset," she said as confidently as she could. "Hermione's in there with her now, trying to calm her down, but she doesn't want anyone else to see her just now."

Daphne looked disbelieving. "You think you can find the Heir of Slytherin, don't you?"

"Maybe we can," Calla said nervously. "You don't know who it is, do you?"

"I know it isn't Draco, if that's what you're trying to prove. He would have told me already. That's all I've been trying to find out, from the Slytherin, but none of them have any more clue than the rest of us. Apart from it was Hagrid who was expelled for it last time." She shrugged. "I know you all don't believe that, though."

"Because it isn't him," Calla insisted, temper flaring up. Maybe she should find a way to prove it, but she just knew that it couldn't be Hagrid. Hagrid was wonderful and kind and he thought Hermione was brilliant and had just as much contempt for Slytherin and prejudice as the rest of them.

"I didn't say it was." Daphne shrugged. "Look, I don't want to fight with you guys. You're my friends, especially you Calla. You were the first friend I chose for myself, without my parents steering me towards purebloods. I just wanted to find out who it was, and clearly you don't approve of m my methods." She narrowed her eyes. "But whatever it is you're up to, I doubt it will work out like you want it to."

"And are you going to try anything to stop us?" Calla asked, eyebrows raised.

"No point," Daphne said airily. Then, her face fell. "Just... remember that I am your friend. I'm sorry for upsetting you - and I don't believe that Harry or you are the heirs."

"Thanks," Calla said drily, though her stomach twisted uncomfortably. At the sound of footsteps coming down the hall, she looked at Daphne and gave her a grin smile. "They probably won't take kindly to you being out here with me."

Daphne shrugged. "Figures." Then she smiled awkwardly. "Just don't get yourselves in trouble, yeah?"

She went off back the way she came, leaving Calla to stare at her retreating back and wonder what the Hell she was meant to do after that.

Harry, Ron and Padma came down the corridor a moment later, and again the piled into the tiny cubicle.

With a few flourishes of her wand, Hermione finished off the potion and started ladling it out into five separate mugs. Padma dropped a Pansy hair into one mug, and a Tracey hair into the other. Calla has the honour of drinking Pansy's potion, which had turned a sort of brownish pink shade. The Tracey potion, on the other hand, was much prettier, a sort of silvery colour.

"Lucky," Calla muttered, and Padma smirked.

Harry and Ron put their own hairs in their mugs, as did Hermione, all of which did look even less appetising than Calla's did, at least. "We'd better separate," Hermione said. "Crabbe and Goyle are much bigger and there's no way we'll all fit. Plus, we need to change too."

She tossed extra large Slytherin robes to Harry and Ron, and passed a change of clothes each to Calla and Padma. They cleared out, Calla in the cubicle between Harry and Padma. She glared down at her mug, trying to work up the appetite to drink it. "Down it in one," she muttered to herself. "It'll be over soon enough."

Closing her eyes and trying not to breathe too deeply, she raised the mug to her lips and drank it all in one go. It burned at the back of her throat and she coughed, slamming the mug down on the top of the toilet lid. Harry seemed to have had a similar reaction from the way he was coughing.

"That's disgusting," he said through the cubicle, and Calla gave a grunt of agreement.

Then, there was a very strange sensation that overcame her. Like every part of her was moving, her cheeks and skin bubbling and sliding around, like pieces of a puzzle re-arranging herself. Her hair brushed over her shoulders as it shortened, coming to just above the tops of her shoulder, and all of a sudden her vision went blurry. She squeezed her eyes shut, and took off her glasses. When she opened them, the world was in full clarity and she couldn't stop herself from staring. "Woah," she said quietly.

"Quickly," Padma said, unlocking her own door. "We've only got an hour, remember?"

Hastily, Calla tore off her own robes and pulled on the Slytherin ones. They fit surprisingly well, and after fastening them she stepped out the cubicle, rushing over to the mirror where Padma already stood.

It was the strangest thing. Her skin had gone pale and smooth, eyes a dark brown instead of bright green, and her hair was short and pin-straight. Her lips were fuller and her nose smaller, and she herself was taller, which felt very odd indeed. Her balance felt all off, and she stepped tentatively nearer to Padma, who was gazing at her own pasty-faced, mousy-haired reflection.

"This is weird," Padma said, just as Ron and Harry stepped out.

"Yeah," Calla agreed. Even her teeth felt weird - and her voice was higher than normal, too. Turning around to Harry, she asked, "Where's Hermione?"

There was a sort of sniffing sound from the farthest stall. "I'm not coming," Hermione said in a shrill voice. "Go without me."

Calla frowned. "Hermione, What-"

"Just go! Like Padma said, you only have an hour, you need all the time you can get."

"Come on, Hermione, we know Bulstrode's ugly," Ron said, "no one's going to know it's you."

"And you can't look any worse than Harry," Padma put in, making him scowl.

"Just go!" Hermione called.

They all glanced at each other. "If you're sure..."

"I am, just go on!" Hermione insisted. "Remember, one hour!"

All slightly bewildered, they slowly made their ways out of the bathroom, but Calla had rather a sinking feeling in her gut. Whatever was wrong with Hermione didn't really feel like it boded well for their mission as a whole. "Right," Padma said, glancing around. "First things first, where actually is the Slytherin Common Room?"

They all looked at each other the same, realising that none of them had thought to figure out where the Slytherin Common Room actually was. With a sigh, Calla pulled the Marauder's Map from the pocket of her Slytherin robes. It was a good thing she always took it with her. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," she said, tapping the parchment. Maroon ink bloomed across it, creating the map she knew so well. From where they were, the Slytherin Common Room wasn't too far: down a corridor, three right turns, and straight down to the dungeons, then along past the Potions corridor to the very outskirts of Hogwarts Castle, by the lake.

"Come on," Harry said, peering at the map and holding its edge. "Let's get going. Calla, you have to stand up straighter, and look haughtier like Parkinson does."

"Try and act like there's a bad smell under your nose," Padma suggested. "Pansy always looks like she's vaguely disgusted by something."

Bearing that in mind, Calla rolled her shoulders back and held herself taller, taking care to look down her wrinkled nose.

They didn't get far until they passed Penelope Clearwater, the Ravenclaw Prefect. Ron looked like he was about to say something - possibly ask for directions - but Padma nudged him in the side to stop him and Ron went toppling over, clutching onto Harry's arm. Penelope gave them scathing looks, but continued on her way.

"Keep your head down," Padma hissed. "And act stupider. If that's possible."

"Shove off," Ron muttered.

Rounding a corner, they faltered. "That's one of them now," Padma said, but when they crept closer, Calla realised they were wrong. It was Percy, hair a little ruffled, bounding up from the dungeons.

"What are you doing here?" Ron blurted out, without thinking.

Percy's sharp eyes caught on what he thought was Goyle. "Excuse me?" he asked, looking strongly offended. "I happen to be a School Prefect. You, however..." He wrinkled his nose, no doubt taking in the Slytherin badges on their uniforms. "Have no such authority on which to question me. It's Crabbe, isn't it?"

Ron blinked stupidly. "Oh, Yeah."

"Well, then get back to your common room. It isn't safe to wander about the school in times such as these."

"You are," Ron pointed out, earning a sharp elbow to the ribs from Padma.

"As I said, I'm a School Prefect." Percy drew himself up proudly, making his badge catch the light. "Nothing's goin to attack me. Now, be on your way."

Calla, not wanting to risk getting caught out, hurried onwards, Harry, Ron and Padma following quickly behind.

She stared down at the map, keeping an eye on the way they were going. If they turned down that way- her eyes caught on a name coming towards them and she hissed a quick, "Mischief Managed," before stuffing the map hastily back into her pocket.

"Cal, what-"

Draco Malfoy rounded the corner, immediately finding them. Calla tried to put on one of Pansy's smiles, simpering and sickly sweet. "Draco," she called. "We were just looking for you." He stared. "Aren't you glad to see me back? I decided I simply couldn't miss the feast this year, especially since you all were staying behind."

On her right, Harry gave a frantic nod. "I thought you were in France for the holidays?"

"Oh," Calla said with a small, tinkling laugh, "France gets boring after a while, if I'm honest. I'd much rather be here, with you."

Malfoy looked pale and confused, and honestly Calla wasn't that surprised. She probably should have looked more closely into what Pansy Parkinson would be doing, and why she'd have reason to come back to Hogwarts for the holidays, but she hadn't. Now she just had to hope that she could pull it off, and that Malfoy somehow wouldn't ask Pansy more about it when she did return.

"I might go back at some point, though," she said airily, taking Malfoy's arm. "I don't know, Mumsy of course said that I was welcome to stay with them over New Year's if I wished."

"Right," Malfoy said, brow knitted together in confusion. "That's... Good for you, Pansy."

"What do you say we go on, then?" said Padma as Tracey, eyes darting nervously between Malfoy and Calla. "I'm dying for a seat, these two are doing our heads in, aren't they, Pansy? Can't get an intelligent word out of them."

Harry looked offended; Ron at least just looked confused, which was fitting for Crabbe. But Malfoy looked confused too. "Since when do you two hang around anyway?" Malfoy whispered to Calla as they set off down a corridor. "You said Davies might as well be half bred with a pig."

A sliver of ice plunged into Calla's stomach. They'd already messed up. "Well," she said, trying not to dwell too much on the exact implications of Pansy's comment, "I saw Crabbe and Goyle with her - no idea why they'd want to be with her, but as you say, it's not like they have much brains. Clearly she's just a hanger on right now, without anyone else, but it's amusing to see her flail and try keeping up with us."

Malfoy seemed to take this as an acceptable answer. He sniffed as he led them down another corridor, and then a set of stairs to the dungeons. He breezed past the cold, dark stone wall until he came to a bare stretch and paused.

"What's the new password again?" he asked Calla, who floundered for a moment. "Oh, Yeah," he said, barely noticing, "pureblood."

Calla held back a glare. Of course the password had to be pureblood. She glanced back at Padma-Tracy, who looked incredibly out of place. When Malfoy entered, followed by Harry and Ron, she hung back a little to whisper to her friend. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," Padma said quickly blinking. "It's just... I'm just thinking is all."

Feeling Malfoy's eyes on her, Calla put on a sneer and swept away to the grand, green velvet sofa where she sat by Malfoy's side. Padma looked uncertain as she took a seat opposite, by Ron, stiff as a board. Malfoy, of course, had no such worries. He lounged back in his seat with all the elegance expected of a spoilt git who had been treated like a prince all of his life.

"Well?" he asked in a haughty tone, clearly expecting something of them all. "What's Davis still doing here?"

Padma flinched. Ron and Harry were no help, simply staring, and Calla floundered again. "Come on, Draco," she simpered. "It's Christmas, at least let her pretend this one might."

He frowned, and for a second looked like he might press her further on the matter. But then he just shrugged. "If you say so."

Calla breathed a small sigh of relief.

"I've got something to show you all," Malfoy drawled, getting up. "My father sent it to me, it'll give you a laugh, I'll go and get it."

He disappeared off and Harry, Ron, Padma and Calla exchanges nervous glances, all wondering what on Earth Malfoy might find funny to show to them. He returned a moment later, holding what Calla thought looked like a newspaper cutting, perhaps from the Daily Prophet.

Malfoy tossed it under a surprised Ron's nose. His eyes widened in shock, as did Harry's when it was passed to him. Calla read over his shoulder, stomach turning.

It was indeed from the Daily Prophet, and the headline read: _'ENQUIRY AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC'._

 _Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, was today fined fifty galleons for bewitching a Muggle car._

 _Mr Lucius Malfoy, a governor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where the enchanted car crashed earlier this year, called today for Mr Weasley's resignation._

Calla's stomach twisted horribly.

 _'Weasley has brought the Ministry into disrepute,' Mr Malfoy told our reporter. 'He is clearly unfit to draw up our laws and his ridiculous Muggle Protection Act should be scrapped immediately.'_

 _Mr Weasley was unavailable for comment, although his wife told reporters to clear off or she'd set the family ghoul on them._

Calla couldn't even quite bring herself to smile at the image of Mrs Weasley dressing down the Daily Prophet reporters who came nosing about. She gave a weak, half-hearted chuckle. Ron sat in a stunned, furious sort of silence.

"Well?" Malfoy said in an impatient tone, staring at Harry. "Don't you think it's funny, Goyle?"

Harry gave a bleak, unconvincing chuckle.

"Arthur Weasley does love his muggles, doesn't he?" Malfoy drawled. "I reckon if he loves them so much, he ought to snap his wand in half and go join them. From the way those Weasleys behave, you'd never know they were pure-bloods." Malfoy paused and Calla followed his eyes to Ron, whose Crabbe face was contorted by barely concealed fury. She tried to send him a look to tell him to calm down, but Ron didn't seem to notice him. "What's wrong with you?" Malfoy asked him, looking down his nose.

"Stomach ache," Ron said with a groan.

"Get yourself to the Hospital Wing the," Malfoy snapped. "And give those Mudbloods a kick for me on the way past." Fury flared in Calla's chest at his words. She caught Padma's eye and knew that she was thinking the same. But Malfoy continued on. "I'm surprised the Daily Prophet hasn't reported on the attacks yet. Dumbledore must be trying to hush it all up, but I bet he'll be sacked if it doesn't all stop soon. Father always says that Dumbledore's the worst thing ever to happen to Hogwarts. He loves Muggle-borne, can't think why; a decent Headmaster would never let slime like that little Creevey boy in."

Calla tightened her hands into fists as Malfoy began a very poor and cruel imitation of Colin. An image of him lying on the floor that night flashed into her head and she shuddered at the memory, nausea creeping into her throat. "Potter, can I have your autograph, Potter? Oh, Potter, can I have your picture? Oh, please, Potter, please, can I lick your shoes, Potter?"

It was all Calla could do not to lash out and hit him for that. He stopped abruptly and stared around. "What's the matter with all of you? Don't tell me Greengrass is still getting to you, Pansy."

Calla startled at his words and stared at Malfoy. "What?"

He rolled his eyes. "Merlin, you really are distracted by something." His gaze softened. "Look," he said in a quieter voice, "I know the two of you used to be close, but she's proved she's not one of us anymore and it's clear she doesn't want to be, either. Besides," he said, "we're too good for people like her who won't even stick by pure blood. I just feel sorry for the little sister." He shook his head. "She's been digging about for information, Daphne not Astoria. Suppose she's working with Potter - Saint Potter, the mudbloods' friend!" He let out a laugh that sounded more like a cackle. "Imagine, people think he's Slytherin's heir!"

Calla sat up straight and exchanged a subtly excited glance with Padma. This was what they had come here for.

"I wish I knew who it is," Malfoy went on in a whine, "then I might be able to help them."

He didn't notice Ron's mouth dropping open in surprise. Calla gave Harry a look to say she'd suspected as much. "You must have some idea who's behind it, though," Harry said quickly.

"How many times, Goyle? You know I haven't a clue. Father won't tell me anything about the last time it was opened either. Of course, it was before his time, but he still knows all about it. Apparently it was all kept quiet and it'll look suspicious, you know, if I happen to know too much about it all. But I do know one thing. The last time that the Chamber was opened, a Mudblood died. It's only a matter of time before hat happens again." A disgusting smile spread over his face. "As for me? I hope it's Granger."

Furious, Calla shot to her feet, not totally certain what she was about to do. Malfoy stared up at her and she shuddered. "What's wrong with you?"

"Just - Granger," she said weakly. "You know she hangs about with Greengrass and everybody too." Malfoy still stared perplexed. "Sorry, Draco. You know, this is all just getting to me." She put on her best clamour for sympathy and sat down slowly.

A bit tremulously, Harry asked, "Do you know what happened to whoever opened it last time?"

"Oh, yeah," Malfoy said, though Calla could feel him still staring at her. "Whoever it was was expelled. I suspect they'll still be in Azkaban."

"Azkaban?" Harry asked, frowning.

"The wizard prison," Malfoy said, looking at him with an expression of disbelief. "Honestly, Goyle, any slower and you'd be going backwards." He shifted before he said, "Father says I ought to keep my head down and let the Heir get on with the job. The school needs ridding of Mudbloods, after all." He sniffed haughtily. "Of course, you know father has a lot on his plate at the moment. The Ministry of Magic raised the manor last week," he said to Calla, who blinked once before schooling her face into an expression of worry.

"They didn't find anything, did they?" she asked in as Pansy-like a voice as she could.

"Not much, luckily. Father has some very valuable Dark Arts stuff, as you know, Pansy, but luckily we've got that secret chamber, you know, under the drawing room floor."

Ron let out a yell of what might have been triumph, before doubling over and trying to pass it off as pain. He flushed, but as he did, the tips of his ears turned red, too, as did his hair. His nose lengthened too, and Padma's hair was turning from brown to black. Calla had no doubt she and Harry were changing back to.

They jumped up to their feet. "Need some medicine," Ron grunted. "For my stomach."

"I'd better make sure they find the Hospital Wing," Calla said quickly. "Oafs could get lost in two steps." Malfoy wrinkled his nose but didn't say anything as they quickly exited the room, Padma following closely behind. They dashed the whole way back to Myrtle's bathroom, collapsing inside the door and tripping over their robes.

"At least that wasn't a complete risk of time," Ron said, as Padma shut the bathroom door. "We don't know who's behind the attacks, but I'm going to write Dad first thing tomorrow and tell him to check under the floor in the Malfoy's drawing room." He grinned triumphantly.

"And it looks like the Slytherin ranks aren't as tight as we might think," Padma added darkly. "You saw they don't care much for Tracey. She's a halfblood and I'd be willing to bet they don't treat Lily Moon much better - they're the two thatare always hanging around together, aren't they?"

Calla nodded, but she had something else on her mind. What Malfoy has said about Daphne, how she was clearly with them, and that she was lookin for information out of them. If the Slytherins could see it, she thought perhaps she should have seen it too. But she didn't voice that opinion, as just as that moment Ron started hammering on Hermione's cubicle door.

"Hermione, we've got loads to tell you!" he was shouting.

Her voice squeaked back, "Go away!"

The four looked at each other, perplexed. "What's wrong?" Padma asked. "You ought to be back to normal by now, right? It's been an hour..."

Moaning Myrtle glided through the door of the cubicle with a gleeful expression and a sharp, excited look in her eye. She looked like she actually knew it was Christmas, face lit up in mirth. "Just wait till you see," she said, swooping to Calla's side. "Oh, it's just awful!"

The lock slid back and out came a sobbing Hermione, with her robes pulled up over her head.

"What's up?" Ron asked in a wary, almost uncertain sort of voice. "You've not still got Bulstrode's nose, have you?"

Her robes fell away and Calla tried not to gasp. Ron, on the other hand had no such subtlety and merely stared, backing harshly into the sink. Hermione's face was not that of Millicent Bulstrode's, Not was it her own, but instead was covered in black fur, with yellow eyes and long, pointed ears that poked out through her hair.

"It was c-c-Cat hair!" Hermione howled. "She must have a Cat, and - and-"

"The Potion isn't meant to be used for animal transformation." Calla pulled a face of sympathy.

"Oh no," Ron said.

"You'll be teased something dreadful!" Myrtle cackled, swooping around.

"It's okay," Harry said quickly. "We can take you to the Hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey doesn't ask a whole lot of questions..."

"Yeah!" Padma agreed. "She'll fix you up as soon as she and no one will ever have to know!"

Still it took a long time to convince Hermione to go out of the bathroom and begin making her way to the Hospital Wing with them.

Myrtle followed them along, still cackling and jeering. "Wait till everyone finds out you've got a tail!"


	30. Ch29 - The Diary

It was several weeks before Hermione was allowed out of the Hospital Wing, a time during which a handful of exciting things happened. There were, of course, many rumours about why she'd been taken to the Hospital Wing in the first place, the most popular of which the belief that she had been the Heir of Slytherin's latest victim. In the first few days back after the holidays, so many people went past trying to sneak a glance at her that Madam Pomfrey eventually brought out her curtains and placed them around Hermione's bed like a sort of shield, to stop anyone being nosy and getting a look at her furry face.

Calla, Harry, Ron and Padma went to visit her every chance they got, and she insisted that they bring her homework so that she didn't fall behind. Calla and Ron agreed that she was mental, and if they had ended up half-cat then they would absolutely take the opportunity to get out of doing work for school. Hermione had also received a get-well note from Professor Lockhart, which Padma had found vaguely exciting, Calla had thought hilarious, and which Harry and Ron were both rather disgusted by.

Calla's special lessons continued as normal. She'd met with Dumbledore once and barely done anything except practice clearing her mind. Whether this was the normal way to go when doing a form of Occlumency, or whether Dumbledore simply didn't think that she was up to anything more magically advanced, she didn't know, but she continued without much complaining. Snape had been mentioned as a potential tutor, and she didn't want to do anything that made Dumbledore actually enlist his help on the matter. Trelawney, she realised, was rather eccentric and liked to predict that she was in significant danger. She took her comments about her life's path being a 'dead end' a little less to heart after that realisation, but regardless she felt there had to be some truth and integrity to Trelawney's predictions, else Dumbledore would never have hired her, or suggested her to help Calla with her own Seeing. She was still on tea leaves, and struggled to find anything she could truly analyse - though Trelawney often saved her the trouble be saying she'd be involved in a terrible cave-in, or something similar - but in her mind it was at least still better than having so many unexpected visions, which had dwindled away slightly. She hadn't failed to notice, too, that there hadn't been any more attacks since the one on Justin and Nick.

But perhaps the most exciting of the few exciting things, to Calla at least, was that Daphne was actually talking to Padma. Civilly. Without fighting.

It had occurred the last day of the holidays, when Daphne had appeared in their dorm room and sat down on the edge of her bed, next to Calla's. There had been a short, awkward silence, before Daphne said, "I know you snuck into the Slytherin common room."

Calla had stuttered over an explanation, but Padma didn't seem to care about that. "Yes, we did." She fixed Daphne with a cool gaze. "And what's it to you?"

Daphne had shrugged. "I just want to know how you did it, is all. I know why, of course I do - tell me, did it occur to you that it wasn't the best idea to ask Draco as Crabbe, Goyle, Davis and Pansy of all people? She wasn't even there over the holidays, you had to know that would raise a few eyebrows. Draco's written her already wanting to know why she left so abruptly and she has no idea what's going on, I just heard from her." She sighed. "I get you don't like me. Can I just explain what's going on?"

Maybe Padma would have said no, once upon a time, but although they hadn't spoken about it properly, Calla knew Padma had picked up on the same thing as she had. Malfoy thought it was clear Daphne had sided with them, that she was digging for information, and that Pansy was upset. That maybe Pansy even missed her friend. So Padma said, "Go for it."

Taking a deep breath, Daphne began. "I know that maybe I went about things in the wrong way. I wanted to know who the Heir was. My parents told me what happened the last time and I... I didn't want that to happen again. So I asked around, spoke to the Slytherins, and I wanted to stay friends with you guys, but, I don't know... I couldn't. It was hard to juggle knowing you all would never get along, and soon enough you had all turned against me anyway. Pansy was my best friend for eleven years before I came to Hogwarts." Her breath shook a little. "She was like a sister to Astoria and me. It was really hard, finding my own place and my own friends, while remaining friends with her. You already know what went on last year - my parents were upset about me not being in Slytherin, about befriending the people I did. Pansy was, too. We both felt like we were slipping away from each other, and I don't know, I think we both said things we regretted. But I realised that, yeah, Pansy's been my best friend for years. But you two are my best friends now, as well. So... I guess what I'm saying is, can we put this behind us? I'm covering for you guys to Pansy. Draco's still furious with me for it all, honestly I don't care about him that much. But it's still kind of hard to push away my past, and honestly? I don't really want to push it all away. Pansy can be a bitch, yeah, but she's like family." She smiled weakly. "But you guys are my best friends, too."

And all of a sudden, Padma had lunged forward and tackled Daphne in a hug that Calla didn't think any of them had been expecting. In an instant, Calla had joined in, too, and they were huddled together, laughing in a hug.

It didn't fix everything, not entirely. It didn't stop the hard feelings of her accusations of Hagrid, or her suspicions of Calla, or how shed barely given them an explanation up until then, but it was a start. And everything needed to have a start somewhere.

Calla, Padma and Daphne had been in the library with Terry and Sue, looking over their Herbology notes together on an afternoon when Ron and Harry had been to visit Hermione. That hadn't been a particularly exciting study session, but it was what happened when she, Padma and Daphne were on their way back downstairs that shook her.

Harry was coming up the other way, not with Ron but rather on his own. "I thought I might find you near the library," he said, grinning. His smile faltered as he saw Daphne - the Gryffindors still hadn't quite made up with her, and she hadn't seen Hermione in the Hospital Wing at all - but soon returned. "Can I talk to you?"

Padma and Daphne looked wary - they were still a bit on alert after the attacks - but Calla nodded them on and she and Harry turned around, heading into a deserted, dust-filled classroom.

"Look," he said, and drew out a small, black leather diary from his pocket. "It's a diary."

"I can see that," Calla said, taking it from him quickly. She turned it over, and felt a very strange sensation indeed. The tips of her fingers tingled slightly, and a familiar feeling went though the scar on her forehead, just the same as it had that night in the forest when she had had the first of her visions. A pair of yellow eyes glowed in her mind's eye and she blinked it away, shaken. "Where did you even get this thing?" It didn't look exciting or magical enough to be from Diagon Alley or bought anywhere from the Wizarding World, and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had never given them money to get things of their own, and Uncle Moony no doubt knew that Harry had no idea how to use a diary, and would never organise even if his life depended on it.

He gave her a quick rundown of events - they'd gone into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom because Filch had been yelling about a mess, the corridor outside was half-flooded, Myrtle had been wailing, someone had thrown a diary at her while she was thinking about death, and they'd found the diary. Ron had thought it was dangerous (Calla thought that was fairly rational) and told him a story about someone from Limerick. But the name on the diary was important: Ron said it belonged to the same Tom Riddle who's name he'd polished on a trophy and who had been awarded a medal for special services to the school fifty years ago.

Calla's stomach twisted at that. Harry hadn't seemed to think anything in particular of that timing, but Calla did. "Fifty years ago, you said?"

She flicked through the pages. They were blank, and though they were still wet, they remained as white as if they were brand new, not fifty years old and yellowed. Recognition seemed to dawn in Harry's face. "When the chamber was opened the first time around?"

Calla nodded grimly. "Harry, I know it seems like an awful lot of coincidence, but you don't think... I don't know, they must be linked somehow? What if Riddle got the award for catching the Heir?"

Harry frowned. "I dunno. It's possible, but it is a bit of a coincidence. I just don't get why someone would want t chuck it away."

Calla shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. Look, just hold off doing anything just now until Hermione's back on form. She'll have an idea, I'm sure."

"Suppose you're right," Harry said. He leaned against a table. "So, you and Padma have made up with Daphne, I guess?"

She nodded. "It's complicated, but we've sorted things. She's just not sure what she feels at the moment, and she's still friends with Pansy and her old family friends, you know, but she's friends with us too, and she knows she's gone about things in a weird way and it's hurt us. So we're trying to make things better." The next part she hesitated to say, but felt it had to be said. "She doesn't think Ron would want to be friends with her again."

Harry blinked, and looked indignant, but fell back after a moment. "You might be right," he admitted. "But if you guys have made up with her, that's good enough with me, and Hermione will be fine I'm sure. It's just... Weird."

Calla tilted her head. "How?" Her brother blinked confusedly. "How's it weird?" She narrowed her eyes, holding back a laugh. "Emotions?"

"No," Harry retorted. "It's just... Confusing. I don't get why it's been such an issue, if it's as simple as you say."

Calla shook her head with a laugh. "Yeah, I know."

Hermione had come to much the same conclusion as Calla did once they told her about the diary, as did Padma and Daphne. All of them thought it was best to leave the diary for the time being, until they knew what it did - or, perhaps more importantly, why someone had been so desperate to get rid of it.

But they were distracted by the diary anyway, as on the 14th of February - Valentine's Day - Calla was greeted by a shrill cry from Lisa's bed, where she waved a pink, heart-shaped card around in the air. At first, she bolted upright, but when Lisa declared - "It's from Michael!" she merely sighed, flopped down on her bed and shut her eyes again. She didn't have to get up for ten more minutes yet, and she quite frankly refused to get up out of bed any earlier than was strictly necessary.

"Come on, Calla," Padma shook her awake a few minutes later. "We'd better get ready."

With a scowl, Calla got up, getting dressed with the other girls while Lisa continued to fawn over the card from Michael. It was quite sweet, Calla supposed, but she was still tired.

The day only got worse when Calla traipsed into the Great Hall, still half-asleep, to find it decked out in pink and red with ribbons and heart-shaped balloons, complete with pink flowers. She rubbed her eyes, wondering if this was a nightmare or a really, really terrible vision of the future.

"What," Daphne said, by her side, "is. This."

"This is Hell," said Isobel McDougal, staring. "What the-"

"Oh, look!" Padma cried, distracting them momentarily. "Oh, look, Lockhart's decked out in pink, oh, I bet he's behind it!" She turned to the other girls, practically swooning. "It's so romantic!"

"Are you okay?" Isobel asked, looking deeply concerned for Padma's welfare.

But Lisa, Mandy and Sue were all cooing too as they made their way over to the Ravenclaw table. Michael looked about as red as the decorations, though Anthony smiled and greeted them quite chipperly. Terry was more pre-occupied with his bacon, one the few luridly pink food items that was meant to at least be a bit pink.

"Isn't this wonderful?" Mandy sighed, sitting down opposite Terry. "They've done a brilliant job."

Terry glanced up. "Yeah, bacon's fantastic today, good on the house elves."

Isobel snorted with laughter, earning her a jab in the side from Lisa. "I loved my card Michael," Lisa said sweetly, curling a strand of hair around her finger. "It was so sweet."

Michael went even redder. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Um, I'm glad you like it."

He was prevented from any further comments about the card by none other than Lockhart himself, who had stepped up to the podium. "Greetings, students," he said, beaming. Calla glared. "What a fine Valentine's Day it is! I thought, with all this dreadful Dark business behind us-"

"Justin and that Gryffindor kid are still in the Hospital Wing-" Isobel hissed furiously.

"-We ought to have a bit fun to cheer us all up, eh? And what better day than today: Valentine's Day." Calla couldn't do much other than stare. "First of all, a lovely thank you to all of you who sent me wonderful Valentine's Day cards today they are all much appreciated." Calla felt a bit sick. She heard Isobel whisper to Mandy that if she'd sent a card to Lockhart, she'd never speak to her again. "Now, I've put together some special celebrations for you all!" She wondered how many of those celebrations involved his face. "Throughout the day, my delivery dwarves will be sending kiss-o-grams to your fellow students, so if you have a message to send to that special someone, take advantage of this opportunity and let the dwarves speak for you.

"Oh, well that's a brilliant idea," Daphne scoffed. "I can't think of anything more romantic than a dwarf."

At that moment, Lockhart clapped his hands and the Great Hall doors opened. A whole horde of dumpy, grumpy-looking creatures stomped in, with little pairs of wings attached to their backs and wielding little gold cupid bows. Michael looked stunned and Calla couldn't blame him.

"And the fun doesn't stop there," Lockhart was continuing, much to Calla's annoyance. "I'm sure my colleagues will all be more than happy to join in the festivities. Why not ask Professor Flitwick to teach you an Entrancing Enchantment, or ask Professor Snape how to whip up the perfect Love Potion."

Snape's face was set in stone fury and he looked as though the first person to ask him how to 'whip up the perfect love potion' would sooner have poison down their throat. "I kind of want to ask Snape," Daphne said hushedly, eyes glinting mischievously. "I want to know what he'd do."

Calla and Padma both stared at her. "Don't," they said at the same time.

For the entire rest of the day, dwarves were barging into classrooms to deliver Valentines. Michael was sent one that had him turned bright red, and he was clearly embarrassed. Lisa smiled the whole time, seeming very excited by the whole thing.

"If someone sends me one of those, I'll throttle them," Isobel said darkly.

It was when they were making their way up to the Charms class they shared with Gryffindor, that a dwarf barged past Calla, running forward to where her brother was already moving with Ron and Hermione. Calla bit back a laugh, hurrying forward to get a look as the dwarf yelled out Harry's name.

He tried escaping, but that was fruitless. The dwarf grabbed ahold of Harry's bag, yanking him back. Calla stared on in a strange mix of horror and amusement.

"Let me go!" Harry snarled.

The bag split into, as all of his School things spilled out onto the floor, and his glass ink bottle smashed all over his books, parchment and quill.

Harry scrambled around to Calla's amusement, trying to pick everything up as the dwarf clears dhis thought loudly.

Draco Malfoy strolled past amusedly. "What's going on here?" he drawled, as Harry picked up the pace trying to pack away all of his things.

"What's this commotion all about?" asked a bemused Percy Weasley.

Harry tried to bolt, but the drawn was faster ad grabbed Harry around the knees. He went crashing to the floor and Calla winced in horror as her brother was held down by the ankles.

"Right," the dwarf said grumpily. "Here is your singing Valentine."

Calla tried not to laugh for her brother's sake.

"His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,

"His hair is as dark as a blackboard.

I wish he was mine, he's really divine,

The hero who conquered the Dark Lord."

The crowd burst into laughter, and Calla had to bite her lip to hold back her own laugh. Harry's face was bright red as he got up, laughing feebly and very unconvincingly. Percy Weasley tried to hurry the crowd along, declaring that they were already late for class, and they all went off grumbling, shooed away.

But Malfoy hadn't moved. He stooped down to snatch up something lying on the floor, and Calla peered over, making out Riddle's diary. Her insides froze; something told her that Malfoy really, really shouldn't be holding that.

"Give that back," said Harry in a low voice.

"I wonder what Potter'd been writing in this?" Malfoy laughed, clearly thinking it was Harry's. Ginny stared in horror between the diary and Harry, looking terrified.

"Hand it over, Malfoy," said Percy in a stern voice.

"I think I'll have a look at it first," Malfoy said, taunting Harry as he waved the diary about in the air, grinning smugly.

"As a School Prefect-" began Percy furiously, only to be cut off by Harry.

"Expelliarmus!" he shouted, and the diary shot from Malfoy's grip through the air. Both Ron and Calla moved to catch it, Ron grabbing ahold with a triumphant grin.

"No magic in the corridors!" Percy insisted. "This will have to be reported!"

Harry clearly didn't care though, grinning at the furious expression on Malfoy's face. Calla grinned too, quite pleased to see her brother get one over on the Slytherin.

But as Ginny Weasley passed Malfoy on the way into her classroom, he shouted nastily, "I don't think Potter much appreciated that little Valentine of yours!"

Ginny flushed bright red and covered her face with her hands, running into her class. Calla felt a twinge of sympathy for the girl, and glared at Malfoy jut as Ron pulled out his wand, with a furious snarl. She and Harry pulled him away, with Daphne, Hermione and Padma trailing after them.

"Don't you think it's strange," Calla hissed when Flitwick was out of earshot in Charms, "that the diary isn't affected by your ink?"

Harry was trying to salvage what he could of his books, but he turned to stare at her. "What do you mean?"

"The diary," she said plainly. "I thought it was weird at first anyway, since it's an old notebook, and well, the pages were as white as if they'd first been printed."

Hermione stared over Calla's shoulder and gasped. "You know, she's right, Harry! The diary doesn't seem to have been affected at all!"

"And the pages are still smooth, too," Padma pointed out. "But it was soaking wet when you found it, wasn't it?"

Harry stared, eyes wide, like he was just considering this for He first time. "Yeah..." he said slowly. "You're right."

"There must be some sort of charm on it," Hermione said, eyes darting to Flitwick. "But what... There are loads of protective charms, but how can you protect paper from aging?"

"Let me see," Calla whispered, feeling the same strange tingling sensation she had the first time that she'd held the diary. She flipped through the pages again, but wasn't sure what she'd expected. There was no new writing, no messages. "Bit of a useless diary," she said, settling it down. She was trembling and didn't know why. Her grip tightened on her wand. "Set it aside, Harry, just... Try and salvage your Potions textbook. Merlin knows you need it."

Harry looked offended, but Calla disregarded it as she slid the diary away, still feeling uneasy. Flitwick looked back their way and she tried to concentrate on making a teacup dance, but after five ineffective tries, two of which involved the teacup shattering and having to be put back together by Hermione, she was all too thankful for the bell ringing and letting them out of class.

"I want to look at this more," Harry said to Calla as they left, waving the diary about. She pushed his arm down.

"Don't wave it about like that," she scolded as they made their way to the Great Hall for dinner. "It could be dangerous."

"It's just a diary," Harry said, but even then he didn't seem particularly convinced.

She sighed. She did hate to be the voice of reason, but her brother so rarely stepped up. "It's pretty useless as far as diaries go," she said in a hushed voice a bit away from the others. "But that doesn't mean it's only use is a diary. What if it's... Dark. Just disguised as a diary?"

"I dunno," Harry said, frowning. "If it was dangerous, don't you think it would have, I dunno, sprouted devil horns or something by now."

"Yes, because that would be sensible," Calla snapped. "All cursed objects must have devil horns." Her brother just stared at her, and she sighed. Maybe it was all nothing, but if she couldn't mention her scar to Harry, who could she mention it to? "It makes my scar hurt, Harry."

At that, his eyes widened, and his face paled. "It what?"

"It makes it... Well, maybe hurt isn't totally the right word, but it is a bit painful, and it's an uncomfortable sort of tingle. A bit like pins and needles." She shrugged. "I don't know if it means anything."

"It might," Harry said in a low voice. "You don't think it's connected to... Him."

"I don't know. It's Tom Riddle's, he got an award for services to the school and I can't imagine him having any ties to You-Know-Who, can you? Dumbledore wouldn't allow it to happen." But then, Calla thought, he'd let this all happen.

Harry was staring at the diary like he'd never seen it before. "In that case, we have to investigate it. If it does have a tie to Voldemort-" Calla shuddered "-then we have to know for sure." He pursed his lips. "And if your scar's hurting, we have to tell Uncle Moony."

"Not just now," Calla said. "It's almost the moon."

"Dumbledore, then," Harry countered. "He'll know what to do." Calla found she didn't quite believe that, but nodded anyway.

"It's only when I'm with the diary," she said. "I mean, it twinges occasionally, but it's not sore. I can barely feel it, it's just like a background pain, like when we were little." She shrugged. "It hurts less since we came here anyway, but I don't know if that's because it's manifesting itself in other ways. But the point is, we can't tell him about my scar without telling him about the diary."

And she knew Harry didn't want to tell Dumbledore about the diary. Not until he'd figured it out for himself. Her brother shifted uncomfortably. "We'll write Uncle Moony later, then," he said. "But if you're with Dumbledore again and he asks anything about your scar, then I think you should tell him."

"I will," Calla promised, but she wasn't honestly sure that she would.

Her visions returned that night. It was strange - they usually came to her while she was conscious and made her black out, but this was while she was already dreaming.

She dreamt that she was in a forest of some kind, with dense, dark trees. The moon was bright above her, but on the ground it had very little effect. There was a groaning by her, a roaring car engine, and the scuttling of tiny insect legs. Her stomach plummeted as she looked down, seeing hundreds of tiny spiders crawling up her leg, and looked up, screaming, just in time to see one giant one watching over them, cackling.

The vision changed. There was a mirror smashed on a floor, and the sound of distant shrieking. She tried to move around a corner to see, but she couldn't, couldn't move her legs. A distinct hissing came from the wall beside her, and a word echoed in her mind.

"Kill."

She bolted upright in her bed, shaking. Someone... Someone else had been killed. No. She shook her head, breath hitching. It didn't feel right, it didn't feel like the right one. This vision was of a more distant future, she could tell in a way that she didn't know how. It just didn't feel like it was happening especially soon.

But any other attack would be too soon. The mirror confused her though. Smashed on the ground, destroyed by something. The monster? Why would the mirror be significant anyway?

She rolled over in her bed, casting a weak, "Lumos," spell. It was even weaker than it usually would have been, but she put that down to still being half-asleep, exhausted, and nervous. From her drawer she withdrew a notebook she'd picked up in Diagon Alley, and flicked to a free page where she could jot down what she'd just seen.

Spiders, crawling up her leg in a forest - the forbidden forest? She didn't know. It could have been. It felt like it made sense. And the great spider, massive, that stood over her - what could that be? She wasn't as knowledgeable about magical beasts as perhaps she should have been, especially considering the fact that a monster was roaming around Hogwarts; and it seemed, would be back soon to strike again.

The second vision bothered her the most. Someone else was going to be attacked soon, but she had nothing to go off of other than that they'd be a muggleborn, probably, and likely had a mirror with them. She hadn't even recognised the corridor, to warn people away from it. But the hissing... It sounded like a snake. That would make sense with the voices Harry had heard, she realised, but what type of snake could Petrify people? There hadn't been any bites on Colin's body through which venom could have entered, and if someone was suffocated by the likes of a cobra, they would have noticed. And they wouldn't have been petrified.

She slumped back into her pillow, closing the notebook and shoving it back in its drawer. Everyone else in the dorm was still snoring softly, but Calla wasn't sure she could trust herself with going back to sleep now, after what she'd just seen.

Despite what they'd agreed, Harry had found himself reading the diary anyway, it seemed. He ran over to Calla in the Great Hall the moment she went to sit down at the Ravenclaw Table, dragging her outside to tell her. She'd just barely managed to grab herself a bit of toast to eat, and was still exhausted from the night before.

"Harry, please, I'm too tired," Calla grumbled as they came to a stop outside the Great Hall. "And do you have to drag me away from breakfast, you know you can just talk to me like a normal human being?"

He rolled his eyes. "I couldn't tell you in front of everyone. I wrote in the diary."

Calla's stomach plummeted. None of this was a good sign, and it simply spelled disaster to her. "You. Wrote in it."

"Yeah." He shuffled uncomfortably under her gaze. "I know you didn't think it was a good idea, but... Well, it was like Tom Riddle was speaking to me, he was writing back." She couldn't bring herself to do anything except stare.

"And what did he say?"

"He showed me what happened," he said. "Riddle got the award for catching the Heir, and-" He lowered his voice. "Daphne was right. It is Hagrid."

"Don't be ridiculous," Calla scoffed, still feeling uncomfortable. Yes, Hagrid did have a rather unhealthy obsession with dangerous creatures but he wouldn't do anything to hurt innocent people on purpose. "We've already put this theory down."

"I think you should see for yourself." He tugged the diary from his bag. "See, Cal, I just aske dhim to show me and it sort of sucked me in and I saw what happened."

"There is no way I'm letting that thing suck me in," Calla told him in disgust, taking a large bite of her toast. "Don't be ridiculous. I think my head would burst if I did."

Harry sighed. "I kind of thought you might say that, to be honest. Hermione said you wouldn't want to if your scar was hurting just from touching it - she thinks it might be a Dark object, too."

It took a moment for that to set in. "You told Hermione about my scar hurting." It wasn't a question, more a very harsh, very furious statement. Harry looked at her in surprise.

"What? You would have told her anyway, right?"

"No!" Calla said indignantly. "I didn't want to tell anyone except you, because you're the only person who gets it!" She hadn't realised it annoyed her as much as it did until she started to talk. "Hermione doesn't understand and I love her to bits, but she doesn't! And I'm very glad about that fact, because I wouldn't wish it on anyone but, seriously, Harry? It's my place to tell people, not yours!" She huffed. "I haven't even told Padma, or Daphne, though I suppose you'll have told Ron?" He nodded sheepishly, hand on the back of his head.

"Yeah, but-"

"But you shouldn't have! I didn't say you could and if I wanted them to know, I would have told them myself! I guess half of Hogwarts'll know by tomorrow!"

"They won't tell anyone," Harry assured her hastily.

"I didn't think you would either!" She glared and turned on her heel, eating her toast aggressively. She'd wanted to tell her brother about last night's visions but now she couldn't bring herself to do so, not with knowing he wouldn't keep it entirely to himself. And she was angry, too, and too petty to go back on that now.

Instead she marched furiously back to the Ravenclaw table and sat down, still munching on her toast with more force than was needed. She was well aware of the curious glances she was getting, but she didn't care. Harry shuffled awkwardly into a space at the Gryffindor table between Hermione and Ron, who quickly started interrogating him.

"What's going on?" Padma asked her, and she shook her head, groaning.

"Don't ask," was her only reply, as she reached for the teapot.


	31. Ch30 - Secrets and Visions

Calla had been in a foul mood with him for the whole rest of the day. Harry has trudged through his classes, and she adamantly avoided his gaze during Charms, opting to swap places with Padma and sit by Daphne instead. He didn't want to tell her that it annoyed him, but it did, and what was worse he could see her point.

Maybe he shouldn't have told Ron and Hermione himself, but he had honestly thought that she would tell them anyway, and that Padma would know, if not Daphne. Clearly though, he'd realised in Charms when he looked along at them, they were thick as thieves again.

He'd mulled the events seen in the diary over for quite some time before taking it to Ron and Hermione. "So then Daphne was right?" Ron had asked, incredulous and looking like he'd rather eat a bogey bean than admit that.

"Of course not, Ron," Hermione had replied, shaking her head. "We've been over this, it's clear that Hagrid would never do anything to endanger a student." She frowned. "He definitely wouldn't do it on purpose!"

"Yeah, well, he does have a bit of a history of beinginf mad, hairy creatures into Hogwarts. Don't you remember Fluffy?" They all shuddered at the memory. "What do you reckon the monster was?"

"I don't know," Harry'd said honestly, wishing he could have had Calla there with them to give her theory and input, or even Padma or Daphne. The two of them had obviously sided with Calla in the matter, which he wasn't surprised at - he'd have hoped Ron and Hermione would support - but it bothered him all the same. He hadn't told Uncle Remus what had happened, even though Calla probably had. He didn't want a lecture. "Whatever it was," he'd continued, "it had loads of legs. Way too many legs."

Harry was half beginning to wish he'd never opened the diary in the first place, or found it. While Calla wasn't really talking to him, he was constantly pestered by Ron and Hermione to recount all of the details of his venture into the diary, and was honestly beginning to get a bit sick of it all.

"We don't even know Riddle got the right person," Hermione had pointed out a few days after he'd entered the diary. "I mean, it could have been another monster."

"How many monsters do you really think this place can hold, Hermione?" Ron had retaliated. Both had looked at him for input, but Harry wasn't much feeling like discussing it.

"Harry?" Hermione asked timidly. "You've been awfully quiet."

"Just coming down with something," Harry said. Oliver Wood, who happened to be passing, stopped in his tracks.

"You can't be coming down with something, Potter," he said urgently. "We need you on fighting form for the match against Hufflepuff!" Never mind that the match was ages away yet, Wood ordered Harry straight to his bed to rest, though he couldn't get an awful lot of that. He laid up, restless, wondering what Calla might have said about the diary if he hadn't told Ron and Hermione about her scar.

She was being silly about it, he'd tried to convince himself. He told Ron and Hermione everything. But she didn't, nagged a voice at the back of his head. He wished the voice would shut up, but voices in the back of the head so rarely listen to their owners, and this one didn't seem to even know that he'd spoken.

He'd been laying there for a while before there came an insistent pecking at the window. Huffing, he sat up and crossed to the window, letting in a greying owl. In its claws was held an envelope in Uncle Remus' familiar handwriting and he groaned, just waiting for the written lecture that was sure to come.

 _To Harry, it read._

 _Your sister wrote me in quite a tizzy the other day. She says her scar's been hurting because of some diary you've picked up, and she's worried it's a Dark artefact and might be dangerous. I'd be lying if I didn't think that was a possibility. I know you may think you know what you're doing - your father and I were the same at your age - but please, please be careful and don't do anything rash like last year._

 _I unfortunately can not make it to the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch match but will write soon - and you ought to write to me too, don't think I haven't realised your letters are less frequent lately - and hopefully I can make it to the Ravenclaw match._

 _All my love,_

 _Remus_

It was better than Harry had expected, in honesty. At least he didn't have a lecture, and to his surprise it didn't even seem like Calla had told him about what Harry had let slip to Ron and Hermione. A little comforted by that, though he wasn't sure why, Harry smiled. Laying the letter on his bedside table, he got changed and ready for bed and lay down, slowly drifting off as the other boys trickled in to the dorm.

X

Uncle Moony had written quite promptly back to Calla about her scar hurting, saying that he'd looked into a bit and thought that it definitely had a connection to Dark magic and that she should stay away from it as much as she could, and tell her brother to leave it alone too. He urged her to be careful, which was expected even if Calla knew she couldn't guarantee that she or Harry would be. Mostly Harry. She still wasn't talking to him, not until he apologised. Daphne had been quick to assure her that she was completely in the right about the situation but she wasn't certain. Maybe she shouldn't have blown up so quickly, but her brother had absolutely no right to tell Ron and Hermione about her scar hurting and she wanted him to apologise first, petty as it might have been. She reckoned she had a right to be petty.

At breakfast the morning after she'd gotten her reply, Daphne was pouring over a book about how Dark magic could affect curse scars - how she got it, Calla didn't know, and she didn't ask either - and Padma was rereading Lockhart's 'Magical Me'. She was moping into her cereal, listening in vaguely to Isobel's argument with Terry over the correct uses of dragon blood.

Calla didn't actually notice that Harry was trying to talk to her until Lisa hissed along the table, "Potter, your brother's here."

She'd turned around abruptly, and once she got over her surprise she fixed him with her best glare. "Yes?"

Daphne glanced up, and Calla noticed her small grin. Waiting to see what happened.

"Uh, I just wanted to say I'm sorry. For what I said to Ron and Hermione."

Calla raised her eyebrows. "Really?" she asked coolly.

"I got a letter from Uncle Moony last night," he said in a lower voice.

"Me too."

Harry looked at her in confusion. "I'm going to get rid of it," he said, voice lower still. "The diary, I mean. If it's really bothering you."

Calla shrugged. "Okay." She was rather inclined to let him keep talking and trip over his own confusion. "Good. It's probably dangerous."

"Yeah." Harry gave an awkward little shrug. "Look, it wasn't my place to tell Ron and Hermione, I get that. I thought you would have told them, but I get that it was your choice to make."

"And?"

"And I'm sorry," Harry said, staring at her.

Deciding to put him out of his misery - she was sure Daphne was laughing - she split into a grin. "Good," she said, reaching up to give her brother a short hug. "And make sure you do get rid of the diary, somewhere someone else can't get it. If it is dangerous, we don't want some first year or anyone else stumbling across it by accident."

"Got it," Harry said, considerably brighter than he'd been when he'd shown up earlier. "I've got to get back to the table, I'm starving, but I'll see you in class."

Calla nodded, sitting down as Harry walked away. Daphne was pouting. "I wish you'd had a proper fight," she said. Padma gave her a very unsubtle glare and Calla laughed a bit uneasily. "Well, it would've been fun. Broken up the monotony a bit."

"Yes," Padma said flatly, watching as two fifth years started very loudly yelling about whether or not Chimaeras could make good and loyal pets if raised correctly. It didn't sound like an entirely hypothetical argument, either. "Because Hogwarts is so dull."

X

Four months had passed since the last attack and the tension that had plagued Hogwarts for so long was dwindling down to near nothing. Harry no longer got suspicious looks in the corridor, and Calla hadn't heard anyone else in Ravenclaw mumbling about how they still couldn't technically rule her out as a suspect.

Calla was relaxing a bit about the whole thing, and since Harry had told her gotten rid of the diary and she hadn't seen it again, she'd been able to focus more and her practical magical work was all the better for it. She'd only had one vision recently, and it was a mundane one - Neville smashed a teacup in Trelawney's classroom, which she assumed meant he'd chosen to study Divination in Third Year.

Choosing her elective subjects had proven itself as something to take her mind off of the chamber of secrets business. Divination was a given, of course, given she was basically already studying it anyway and would be an easy pass for her. Trelawney has declared that her talents didn't really lie with tea leaves and they'd taken to crystal gazing, which she was much better at in Trelawney's eyes - she'd seen seven different omens of death, which was really just thrilling. Other than the negativity, Calla did see a lot of interesting things, like the fact that she was struggling over decisions and at a crossroads, and that she would soon find a solution to a problem that had bothered her for a while. That that solution, or indeed the problem, was, she didn't know, but it was reassuring.

But she still had four other subjects to choose from. Harry only wanted to take two subjects, and she'd persuaded him and their friends to take Divination so she'd have someone to talk to in the class. They were allowed up to three electives - though Hermione, it seemed, wanted to take all five on offer - and Calla didn't know whether to do Care of Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy or Muggle Studies. Ron and Harry both said it made no sense for her to do Muggle Studies, given that she grew up with them, and she did agree a bit, so that had been crossed off the list.

Arithmancy had a lot of ties to Divination, and wasn't very reliant on wandwork, which would suit her well, but she wasn't too keen on Maths. Care of Magical Creatures had no relation to Divination but sounded interesting, with little emphasis on magic spell work, and it was the same with Ancient Runes. She decided to take Care of Magical Creatures because all the others were, and flipped a coin to decide between Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. It didn't help, because she didn't want to take Ancient Runes over Arithmancy and also didn't want to take Arithmancy over Ancient Runes.

She'd written to Uncle Moony, but hadn't heard back from him until two days before she was due to inform Professor Flitwick of her choice; he was getting rather agitated about how late she was leaving it.

"I say you should do Runes," Daphne had told her numerous times. "I don't want to be lonely."

"You'll have Hermione," Calla pointed out and Daphne laughed.

"Yeah, much as I love her, she's not particularly fun as a study buddy. Please, Calla."

Padma'd taken Divination, Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies in the end, though she recommended Calla just not opt for either Arithmancy or Ancient Runes. When she'd broached the subject with Ron, he'd replied with, "What do you want to do those subjects for?" and Harry had said they both sounded a bit boring to him, so that had been of little help.

In the end, Uncle Moony recommended that she do Ancient Runes, because it would give her mind a much-needed break from Seeing that Arithmancy wouldn't, and was generally viewed as a lot more interesting. Flitwick had squeaked with relief when she'd eventually handed in her marked slip with Ancient Runes elected, the morning it was due in.

Her sessions with Trelawney continued in a similar manner as always. She managed to see the vague outline of what she thought might be a broom in the crystal ball, which Trelawney said she would soon be ready to spread her wings and embrace a newfound freedom. Calla thought it meant she'd watch the Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff Quidditch match with the rest of the school.

As for the lessons with Dumbledore, she wasn't much further forward. She'd met with him only one a month, so perhaps that was to be expected, but she failed to create the barriers around her mind that Dumbledore insisted upon. After one session where she'd declared that she just couldn't do it and really needed to take a break, Dumbledore had let her go. But her scar was throbbing. She suspected that Dumbledore might know - it felt like he knew everything - but he didn't let on anyway.

While she headed back to Ravenclaw Tower, around the corner from the library, she was hit with a sudden wave of pain through her scar which caused her to buckle over, leaning against the wall. A girl's voice - "Where is it?" ringing out. Papers and books strewn over the floor, frantic whispering and muttering, ruined red bedsheets.

Her breath caught as she stumbled onwards, regaining her balance, though her mind was already reeling. Her walk turned into a sprint as she hurried onwards to her dormitory, frantically answering the riddle at the door - the novelty of it was really starting to wear off - before scrambling to the notebook by her bed and scribbling down what she'd seen.

Someone would be looking for something: a girl.

They were making a mess of a room, and it had a lot of beds in it, so likely a Hogwarts dormitory, though she couldn't think which.

Paper was everywhere - maybe they were trying to find a letter.

It would have been a mundane enough scene - Mandy was always losing things and tearing apart their dormitory to find them when they were right under her nose - but the franticness of the vision told her otherwise. Whatever this person was looking for, it was important.

Xx

 **Author Note/Comment Replies:**

 **Hi guys! Just wanted to say thank you all for supporting this story. I've got a sudden burst of creativity that I don't know how long it might last for, but I'm currently working my way through and hopefully updates will remain frequent rather than sporadic as they have been over the past year!**

 **Thanks to everyone supporting Calla's story. This chapter is a bit shorter than usual and mostly fillery, transition stuff, but second year will be wrapping up soon, I've got a few chapters already written and two after that to still write before we start moving to third year, which is when things really start to pick up and change. I've got a lot of plot things to figure out before I get into writing that, though, but hopefully we should get to third year by the end of September. I am starting university soon for the first time and so this might affect things but right now my plan is to try and get an update up once a week and hopefully I'll be able to stick with that plan!**

 **To Lana: Thank you so much for your comment. Feedback is always super appreciated. Rest assured, Calla will have a lot of struggles before she really gets good at Occlumency, but Dumbledore's already concerned about her visions and her magic which is why he is showing interest now. Hope you enjoyed this update!**


	32. Ch31 - Hermione and Hagrid

Now that most of the school didn't think she and her brother were aspiring murderers, Calla's social life had improved a great deal, though her spellwork less so. Harry has been doing better in class, owing to fact that he was no longer so worried about the Heir of Slytherin, but after a disastrous Potions lesson where her potion blew up in her face the moment she started stirring, splattering even the Hufflepuff Eloise Midgeon, who was two rows in front of her, she began to wonder if she had accidentally broken it like Ron had.

She mentioned this to Dumbledore, who took a look at it and decided nothing seemed faulty - and he would know, he was learned in the ways of wandmaking and knew an awful lot about them, particularly elder as he mentioned. So Calla was left puzzled, frantically trying to get her magic to work like it did normally through the wand.

"Maybe you're just thinking too much," Padma suggested one night in the Common Room, while Calla and Daphne took turns tossing it between each other in the hopes it might trigger a surge of magical energy to right the wand. "If you keep worrying about if it'll work, you'll just get even more frustrated and it won't. You know a watched cauldron never boils."

"A watched cauldron explodes in Calla's face," Daphne said, catching her wand deftly. "And that saying doesn't even work in this instance anyway." She twiddled the wand between her fingers, as Padma watched her somewhat warily. "You haven't been in a duel recently, have you, Calla?"

"Not since the Duelling Club," Calla said, frowning. Justin hadn't done anything to the wand, she knew that - he was too concerned with being supposedly attacked by Harry. "And Justin wasn't very effective at doing anything."

Daphne made a "Hmph" sound. "Apparently sometimes if you defeat someone in battle you can take control of their wand. Some people say it's only if you kill them, though, and you don't exactly look dead to me."

"Wands are fickle," Padma explained. "I'm not honestly sure either of those are true, but if Dumbledore says nothing's wrong he's probably right, Calla. I wouldn't worry too much, we all have blips."

"I have to worry," Calla muttered. "If I fail again this year, I don't know if I'll even get to come back." She didn't say what else she thought - that she'd have been kicked out already if her surname wasn't Potter.

"Don't say that," Daphne said firmly, handing Calla her wand back. "You won't fail, and no one's going to kick you out just because your wand's being a little bitch." A Prefect glared at Daphne, but she didn't seem very fazed by it, only shook out her blonde hair and added with a smug look, "Not if I have anything to say about it."

"Calla can do well on her own merits," Padma said shortly, eyes turned to a glare. "She doesn't need you to whine to Mummy."

Daphne blanched for a moment, before recovering. She narrowed her eyes. "For your information, that's what's called a joke. And I don't whine."

Padma said nothing, just pursed her lips and gave Calla a pointed look. Calla of course had no idea what it meant, and sunk lower in her chair. "I'm sure the wand's fine," she mumbled. "Maybe I jut have to try a bit harder... Second year is tricky... Yeah."

She stood up abruptly, and made off to the library, suddenly feeling very frustrated indeed.

X

One of her visions came to light fairly quickly. She only wished she could have warned her brother first. It turned out it was his dormitory that had been ransacked, though by who no one could work out. Calla mentioned it was a girl, but it wasn't like they were uncommon in Gryffindor Tower.

Harry's concern, though, wasn't merely that someone had targeted his dormitory, but what they had taken. "The diary's gone," he'd said in a low, panicked voice to her the moment he could. She'd almost dropped her book bag.

"I thought you already got rid of it," she whispered. "Are you saying you still held onto it?"

"Well," Harry said sheepishly, "I thought it might still be useful."

"Are you mad?" Calla asked, voice rising higher. "It's dangerous, Harry! You're better off without it, but who has it now?" His face fell.

"Yeah, I was worried a bit about that too."

If it was dangerous as Calla thought, then for someone to have gone looking for it, and to have stolen it... Well, they probably weren't going to be using it to perform Cheering Charms. She said as much to her brother, who was just as worried. "If I knew all the trouble it'd cause, I'd never have picked it up," he said, somewhat bitterly.

"Oh please, Harry, since when did the prospect of trouble stop you from doing something?" He didn't have an answer for that. "Look, I know you don't believe it was Hagrid and I don't either. But I have a feeling we're going to have to find out who it is, and soon."

"You haven't seen-"

"I don't know who's going to be attacked next," Calla said quietly. "But there is going to be another one, I'm almost sure of it now."

And as she lay in bed that night, listening to Daphne and Isobel exchange hair care tips, a cold, terrifying thought struck her. She'd foreseen another attack, and someone ransacking what was clearly Harry's dormitory - looking for the diary. The two were clearly linked, and her mind only resolved to two thoughts: either the Heir was trying to stop Harry from finding out the truth, or they might be using the diary to attack the school.

Neither option put her mind to any rest, and she struggled getting to sleep that night, still thinking and still wondering over far too many things.

X

Harry had been engrossed in Quidditch practice for ages, and despite his constant worrying, the morning of Gryffindor's match against Hufflepuff dawned crisp and bright. This gave Calla the perfect opportunity to don the hat, scarf and gloves her brother had given her for Christmas, though none of her fellow Ravenclaws looked particularly enthused by her outfit choices. Most of them, as Michael informed her, preferred to support Hufflepuff, considering both houses were mostly overlooked in Quidditch.

Calla had just shrugged, and told Michael that the Ravenclaw team had better up their game then, before meandering down to the Great Hall with Daphne and Padma. There she greeted a rather nervous-looking Harry, and gave him a quick, "Good luck," before Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Captain, ushered him from the room insisting that they had to prepare for the match. He looked queasy, and Calla didn't blame him after how the last match had ended.

"Who'd you think will win?" Daphne asked brightly, ignoring the fact that Padma was pointedly not talking to her. "My money's on Gryffindor, obviously."

"You would say that," Padma muttered, but Daphne didn't appear to hear her.

"Yeah, Gryffindor'll probably win," Calla agreed, tucking into toast.

"You don't seem to have much faith in us," said Zach's voice from behind. She turned around grinning, seeing him with Susan and Hannah.

"Well, Gryffindor won last year against you, didn't they? And they have the same line-up."

"It's statistics," Daphne said, giving Zach a broad smile. "I'll bet your for it. Two galleons says Gryffindor'll win."

"You're on," said Zach with a mischievous grin. "Prepare to pay up, Greengrass."

Padma huffed very loudly, and the three Hufflepuff moved on, no doubt trying to nab some good seats for the match. "What's up with you, Patil?" Lisa asked, smirking. "Not excited about the Quidditch?"

"None of your business, Turpin." Padma rolled her eyes and turned to Calla. "I'll save us some seats."

"We might as well all head down," Calla said, getting up, but Daphne stayed out, lookin down. "You Alright?"

"Yeah," she said quickly. "I'll just finish off eating and meet the two of you down there. I have to speak to someone anyway."

Assuming that 'someone' meant a Slytherin, likely Pansy, Calla smiled and went on with Padma, who grumbled at an unnecessary length about how Daphne wasn't joining them. "It's only saving seats," Calla said, quite confused. "She'll be down for the match itself, I'm sure."

Padma huffed and that and strode on ahead, leaving Calla jogging to catch up. At least Harry said what he thought instead of huffing and groaning all the time, she thought. Even if he did annoy her a bit.

They'd been waiting nervously in the stands with Ron for about ten minutes, freezing their fingers off and waiting for the match to begin, and neither Daphne or Hermione had shown up yet. "They're probably coming down together," Calla said casually, craning over the side of the stands to see if she could spot Harry coming out.

"'Mione said she was going to the library," Ron told them. "Rushed off, said she thought of something- oh, is that them coming out now?"

But it was not. Professor McGonagall was moving across the Quidditch Pitch and disappeared swiftly, just as a message began to echo around the stands. "This match has been cancelled," said a voice which no one could source. "Please can all students return to the castle at once."

There were grumbled all around, but a dead weight dropped into Calla's stomach. "It's happened again," Padma said, catching on quickly just as Calla had. "Come on."

They joined the throng of people surging back downstairs, theories already flying about. Some Hufflepuff claimed that Katie Bell had been attacked, though Calla had seen her before leaving the Great Hall with the rest of the team. "We should find Harry," she said as they reached the ground, and it seemed Ron had the same idea: he was already tearing off to the team changing rooms. McGonagall was looking more disturbed than Calla had ever seen her, ushering a confused looking Harry out across the lawn.

"Yes, I suppose you all ought to come too," she said heavily, when their paths met. "This is something you all ought to know."

Calla again felt a very worrying sensation in her scar. There had been another attack, there was no doubt in that. The Heir had struck again, and already she was worried it had something to do with the diary being taken back.

"What's going on?" she asked Harry, who paled even further and pressed his lips together nervously.

"I heard the voice again," he whispered, trying to keep his voice down so that McGonagall wouldn't hear. "It said it was going to attack. Hermione got an idea and rushed off and-"

It was the final turn needed to make her stomach twist entirely. Calla quite thought she was going to be sick. "Hermione," she said quietly. "Oh, no, Hermione."

Padma was looking around furtively, like she was lookin for someone, even as they entered the castle. But Calla couldn't think of very much else than her friend. She'd been attacked, she must have been, that was why McGonagall was taking them inside, why she was leading them towards the Hospital Wing.

They all seemed to have cottoned on by the time they reached the infirmary. Even Ron's freckles seemed to have turned almost white. "This will come as a bit of a shock," Professor McGonagall said, in the kindest voice Calla had heard from her. "There has been another attack..." McGonagall paused. "Another double attack." She pushed open the doors, revealing a row of beds. In the nearest one lay Penelope Clearwater, a sixth year Ravenclaw Prefect. Padma gasped, but Calla was more preoccupied with the bed next to her.

"Hermione!" Ron shouted, voice urgent and clearly terrified. Calla was at a loss for words; it felt like all the air had been sucked from her lungs and every sound from her throat, and all she could do was stare, numbly, at her friend's body on the hospital bed, unmoving as stone.

"No," Padma whispered faintly. "Hermione."

Calla didn't realise she was crying until she blinked and a hot tear fell from her eye, trickling down her cheek. "Is she-" she couldn't find the words for what she wanted to ask. She couldn't bring herself to say the word, but McGonagall seemed to understand.

"She is Petrified," Professor McGonagall said gently. "We can care for her." She looked at Hermione in clear distress.

The four of them crossed over to stand around Hermione's bed. When Calla touched her hand to Hermione's arm, it was freezing cold and entirely unmoving, exactly like a stone statue. Her gut churned.

"The pair of them were found near to the library," said McGonagall in a somber voice. Calla turned as she held up a small, handheld mirror, smashed to pieces. Calla's breath caught in her throat. "I don't suppose either of you could explain this? It was on the floor just by them."

Harry, Ron and Padma all shook their heads, still staring at Hermione. "Professor," Calla started off timidly. "I - I had a... Vision of the mirror, I think. I wasn't sure what it meant, or what would happen, but... I think that must be the mirror I saw." McGonagall stared at her, but was less surprised than Calla might have thought. She imagined Dumbledore would have informed her already. "I don't know why it was with them, though," Calla finished in a bit of a mumble.

"Alright, Potter," said McGonagall in a heavy sort of voice. "I'll escort the four of you back to your respective towers. I ought to address my students, and Flitwick will want you back."

Aware of Ron and Padma's stared at her back, Calla made off back to Ravenclaw with McGonagall, Harry lingering by your side. "There was nothing you could have done," he said in a hushed voice.

She said nothing, still half-numb from the shock.

X

"All students will be returning to their house commons by six o'clock every evening. No student is permitted to leave the dormitories after that time. You will be escorted to and from each lesson by a teacher. No student may use the bathroom unaccompanied. All further Quidditch training and matches will be postponed until further notice, and there will be no more evening activities."

There was silence in the Ravenclaw common room as Flitwick spoke, his usually cheerful chirp dismayed and heavy. Penelope Clearwater was one of their own, after all, and a Ravenclaw Prefect, no less. Her loss came as a shock to everyone in their house. A half a dozen sixth year girls sat huddled in the corner of the room, blotchy-faced and crying - Penelope's friends.

Flitwick rolled up his piece of parchment sombrely. "This recent attack in particular, I'm sure, has come as a great shock to all of us in Ravenclaw House. Miss Clearwater is a great friend to many of you, and a respected prefect and student, but rest assured Madam Pomfrey and Professor Sprout are doing all they can to help the victims of Petrification. However, unless whoever is behind these attack is shut, it is likely that Hogwarts may have to be closed." A sharp intake of breath. Calla and Padma shot each other nervous glances, and Isobel gasped against Mandy's side. "If any of you know anything that may help find out who is behind this, anything at all, please, please come forward."

With that, Flitwick left them on a note of silence, shutting the door quietly behind him. The common room was near to silent, everyone still near stunned by the events of the day.

Just as Calla was about to return to her dormitory with the other girls, someone spoke up loudly. It was one of the seventh year prefects, Elizabeth Morran. "We all know Penelope," she said clearly across the room. "Even those who dont know her particularly well know that she is kind, and good, and above all she is a Ravenclaw. She is one of us. Whoever did this," she said, "has acted not only against the principles of any decent witch or wizard, but has moved against the smartest house in this school. I know some of you might be scared, and I'm scared too. But we need to find out who did this and we need to stop them before anyone else is hurt!" Her voice had risen to a cry, and Calla was near awed by it, by the power she'd suddenly gripped over the room. Everyone was staring at her. "If anyone knows anything, like Flitwick said, come forward. But look into it, too. And all of you keep yourselves. I know we're to be escorted by teachers from now on, but frankly, I don't trust that that won't fall through in some occasions. We need to stick together - there is safety in numbers - and no one goes anywhere without at least two other people." She glanced down. "I hate to have to add this last part, but especially those of you who are muggleborn, watch your back, and watch your step. We don't leave each other alone, understand?"

A chorus of murmuring around the common room decided that the Ravenclaw students did, indeed, understand. Slowly, they began to disperse back up the stairs, but Calla couldn't shake the image of Hermione out of her head, not even when Padma half-dragged her up the stairs.

They were the first into their dormitory, and with a furtive glance around, Padma locked the door behind them and dropped her voice to a low whisper. "Calla, I know you might not want to hear it, but I think Daphne has something to do with this."

It was like the bottom had fallen out of Calla's stomach. "Excuse me?"

X

Harry was still in shock, barely listening to the conversations of the other Gryffindors around him. He couldn't seem to get rid of the picture of Hermione in his head, lying on the hospital bed and looking for all the world like she had been carved from stone. And if the culprit wasn't caught soon, if the school really did have to close, he and Calla would have to return to live back with the Dursleys, with Uncle Remus as their only real tie back to the Wizarding World. He didn't like it, but he suddenly understood how Tom Riddle felt when he had turned Hagrid in rather than be faced with returning to his Muggle orphanage if Hogwarts had to close.

"What're we going to do?" Ron whispered in Harry's ear. "You don't reckon they suspect Hagrid, do you?"

"We have to go to talk to him," he said, wishing he could be with Calla - but there was no way he'd be able to get all the way to Ravenclaw Tower and snuggle him out right now. "I don't believe it's him this time, I can't and neither does Calla, but if he was the one who let the monster loose the last time then he'll know how to get into the Chamber, and that's a start at least."

"But McGonagall said we've to stay in the tower unless we're in a class-"

"I think," Harry said, dropping his voice, "it's time I got my dad's old cloak out again."

X

"You can't be serious!" Calla hissed. "I know we've had our ups and downs this year, but she's not the heir of Slytherin!" She spluttered, "Daphne's not even in Slytherin!"

"Her family all are," said Padma darkly. "And she's from an old pureblood family. I don't want to believe she is either, but I thought of it the other day and, well, this could all be a rude."

Calla stared. She couldn't believe it. "You're kidding. Right? It wouldn't be Daphne."

But, then, she thought uncomfortably, why hadn't Daphne appeared at the match? She'd said she'd had something to do, but what, and why couldn't she tell them?"

"She stayed in the castle while the attack happened," Padma said, tapping her finger like she was ticking off a list. "She's been funny all year, and only made up with us after we realised it wasn't Malfoy. She tried to put the blame on Hagrid. And," she added with a triumphant sort of look in her eyes, "I think she's been tampering with your wand."

That made Calla's brain effectively stop for a moment, until she came to and realised quite what Padma had said. "My wand?"

"When you two were flinging it between the two of you, I had a thought and I wasn't sure, but now, well, there's quite a lot of evidence pointing to her. Your wand has been going haywire since Christmas, mostly, hasn't it? Since we made up?"

Calla momentarily forgot how to speak. She had to admit that Padma had a point but it didn't feel right. "Well, she was at the Deathday Party with us," she said confidently. "So she can't have done it then."

"Maybe she didn't have to. Maybe she just opened the chamber beforehand and let the monster do its work. Maybe-"

Someone hammered on the door. "Who's locked this?" came Isobel's voice. Calla and Padma exchanged nervous glances. This conversation clearly wasn't over. Padma reluctantly unlocked the door and Isobel came in with Mandy, Sue, Daphne and Lisa, all of them pale faced and wrought with nerves. Lisa regarded them suspiciously but didn't say anything. Even if anyone did still have a lingering belief she and Harry might have something to do with the attacks, anyone sensible would know that neither of them would ever attack Hermione.

Calla went over to her bed, lying down and unfolding the Marauder's Map from her pocket. While the other girls spoke sombrely, she spoke as softly as she could and whispered, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The map bloomed into life and she quickly found Hermione's dot and name lying in the Hospital Wing - again, quite motionless. She sighed hopelessly, feeling a familiar sense of dread set in, the same kind as the year before when they'd known the Philosopher's Stone was going to be stolen, and she hadn't known anything to do about it. She wanted to tell Dumbledore and Flitwick what she'd seen, everything she'd seen, but she didn't know how it could help. Dumbledore likely knew everhing already.

But then her gaze shifted momentarily and her eyes caught on two dots, moving, just outside of Gryffindor Tower. Harry and Ron. She narrowed her eyes and glanced around as though expecting them to burst out the wall. Surely they wouldn't be foolish enough to go out now?

But of course, she realised, they'd have the cloak. She didn't know where they were going, but Filch was roaming the corridors and she didn't think it was a good idea at all for them to be out and about. They were headed away from the Hospital Wing at any rate, so they weren't going to see Hermione.

She glanced to the door. Did she join them, warn them, or did she stay here in the relative safety of Ravenclaw Tower. Try to get some sleep and rest and think over everything she knew.

Her brother could need her, she reasoned. But he had Ron, and with her magic and wand in the state they were in it wasn't like she'd be of any use to anyone, against anything.

But he was her brother.

"I'm just going to get a book," she murmured to Padma, who was busy casting dark glared at Daphne over the top of her books, and barely noticed her darting out. So long as she kept an eye on the map, she reasoned, trying not to let anyone see that she was shaking worse than an adoloescent mandrake. When none of the few people in the ommon room were looking, and there was no one near on the map, she slipped out. The eagle door knocker eyed her suspiciously but said nothing. She hoped it wouldn't say anything to anyone else, either.

No one was coming her way, but Harry and Ron kept moving down to the bottom floor so Calla hurried into an alcove, opening a passage with a couple taps of her wand and shutting it behind her. She hurried down the stairs, coming out at the entrance hall as waited until Harry and Ron's dots were just by her to hiss, "Harry!"

She couldn't see her brother, but was confident he could see her as she stepped out with a tiny wave. "Where are you going?" she asked in a quiet voice.

A hand reached out from under the cloak to drag her under. It was a close space, pressed between Harry and Ron, but they continued on to the oak front doors just as Calla realised they were going to see Hagrid. Of course. No doubt they wanted to interrogate him, listening to what Riddle and Daphne had been saying - though Calla didn't particularly want to think about Daphne, for worry of what she might find herself thinking.

They didn't take the cloak off until they were right outside Hagrid's hut door. They knocked and it was flung open. Calla gave a little squeak of fright as Hagrid pointed a crossbow straight at them, then upon realising who they were, lowered it uneasily.

"Oh," Hagrid said gruffly. "What're the three of yeh doin' here?"

"Hagrid," Calla asked warily as they went inside, "what've you got a crossbow for?"

"Oh, nothin', nothin'," mumbled Hagrid. "I've bin expecting... well, now... Doesn't matter... I'll make yeh some tea... Yeah."

It was clear Hagrid was flustered - he hardly seemed to know what he was doing as busied himself, knocking over various items in his kitchen and almost extinguishing his fire by spilling the contents of kettle on top of it, right before he smashed the teapot.

"Hagrid?" Harry asked, eyes nervous. "Are you Ok? Have you heard about Hermione?"

"Oh, I've heard alrigh'," Hagrid said, voice breaking slightly as he spoke.

His eyes kept darting to the windows. Calla wondered briefly if she ought to ask him what he knew about monster spiders like the ones from her vision, if they might be involved somehow, but decided he was too flustered already. He poured out large mugs of boiling water with no teabags, and was just setting about plating up large slices of fruitcake when there was a loud knock at the door.

Hagrid dropped the fruitcake, which made a rather unexpected thunk. Calla, Ron and Harry exchanged worried glances and threw the Invisibility Cloak over themselves, backing into a corner where they crouched, breathing stilled as best they could. Calla tried keeping quiet but she was sure her heart was hammering loud enough for them to hear all the way back at the castle.

Hagrid glanced back to check that they were all hidden, before he grabbed his crossbow and the flung the door open again.

"Good evening, Hagrid."

Dumbledore stood in the doorway to Hagrid's hut, looking more serious than Calla had ever seen him as he entered. He was followed, a second later, but another man whom Calla did not recognise.

He was short and rather rotund, with grey hair and a worried, anxious expression. His clothes were odd, a mix of a pin-striped suit, a red tie, a long black cloak that brushed the floor and pointy purple boots, while under his arm he held a lime green bowler hat which, Calla thought, clashed terrible with the boots and indeed, all the rest of the outfit.

"That's my dad's boss!" Ron breathed. "Cornelius Fudge, he's-"

Calla elbowed him in the side to make him stop talking. They could still be heard under the cloak.

Hagrid was looking pale now, and clearly worried. This didn't look good for him. He dropped into a chair, looking stricken and nervous as he glanced between Dumbledore and Fudge.

"Bad business, Hagrid," said Fudge. "Very bad business; I had to come. Four attack on muggleborns, things are bad enough already. Ministry's got to act, you understand."

"I never!" Hagrid insisted, looking to Dumbledore. "You know I never, Professor Dumbledore, sir-"

"I want it understood, Cornelius," said Dumbledore, raising a hand and frowning, "that Hagrid has my full trust and my confidence."

"Look, Albus," said Fudge, looking very uncomfortable. Calla waited with bated breath to see what happened, terrified of what they'd do with Hagrid. "Hagrid's record stands against him, In afraid. The Ministry has to do something - the school governors have been in touch."

"Yet again, Cornelius, I tell you that taking Hagrid away will not help in the slightest," said Dumbledore. His eyes, though blue, were full of a rare fire.

"I'm under a lot of pressure," Fudge said nervously, fiddling with the rim of his lime green bowler. "Got to be seen to be doing something. If it turns out Hagrid is innocent, he'll be back with no more said about it." Calla reckoned she'd have something to say about it, but she couldn't exactly speak now. "But I've got to take him, Dumbledore, got to, wouldn't be doin my duty otherwise, would I?"

"Take me?" Hagrid had started to tremble. "Take me where?"

"It'll only be a short stretch," Fudge said, clearly refusing to meet Hagrid's eyes. "It's not a punishment, Hagrid, merely a... Precaution. If someone else is caught, well, then you'll be let out with a full apology."

"Not Azkaban?" Hagrid croaked, having gone paper still. Ron gasped beside Calla.

But before Fudge could answer, there was another sharp knock on the door and Calla's stomach plunged. Dumbledore answered and Calla had to stop Harry from gasping as Lucius Malfoy strolled in, smiling coldly. He looked sickeningly satisfied. Over by Hagrid, Fang began to growl.

"Already here, Fudge, I see," he said in an approving tone that Calla immediately detested. "Good, good."

"An' what're yeh doin' here?" said Hagrid, voice absolutely furious. "Get outta my house!"

Lucius Malfoy looked around with an upturned nose and a sneer. "You call this a house?" Calla sparked with fury but had to hold her tongue. "I simply called at the school and was told that the Headmaster was down here."

Calla dreaded to think what Lucius Malfoy might possibly want with Dumbledore, but she doubted it was anything good. What if he'd discovered what they'd down at Christmas? But he wouldn't bring it up, she didn't think. Malfoy junior certainly hadn't shown any signs of realising. Her mind flickered unwillingly to Daphne and she tried to focus. She couldn't worry about what Padma had said now, she had to focus on what was happening before her.

"And what did you want with me, Lucius?" Dumbledore asked, a fire still blazing fiercely in his eyes.

"Well, Dumbledore," said Malfoy, pulling a piece of parchment from his pocket. "This is a letter from the governors. Dreadful times, you see, we feel you have been... Inefficient." Harry fumed besides Calla. "This calls for your suspension." Ron's ears turned pink with rage. "You will find signatures from all twelve of the school governors. We feel you are rather losing your touch, Dumbledore. How many attacks has that been now - four? Five? At this rate, there will be no muggleborns left in Hogwarts, and we all know what a... Terrible loss, that would be."

Fudge stepped back in apparent alarm. "Oh, now, see here, Lucius," he said quickly, wringing his hands with a nervous laugh, "Dumbledore suspended... no, no, why... that's the last thing we want right now..."

"The appointment and suspension of Headmasters is a matter under the control of the governors," Malfoy said smoothly. "And since Dumbledore has so far entirely failed to stop these attacks..."

"Well, Lucius, look here, if Dumbledore can't stop them-" Fudge said, face reddening and looking sweaty, "Well, I mean to say, who can stop it all?"

"That remains to be seen." Malfoy had an awful, nasty smile and Calla frowned at the look. "But as all twelve of us have voted."

"An' how many outta that twelve did yeh threaten and blackmail in ter agreement, eh, Malfoy?" Hagrid roared, having leapt to his feet in indignation.

"Your temper might lead you into trouble one of these days, Hagrid," Mr Malfoy said nastily. "And I would advise you refrain from talking to the Azkaban guards like that. I don't suppose they'd like that at all."

"Yeh can' take Dumbledore!" Hagrid protested, yelling even louder now. Fang cowered. "Take him away an' muggleborns won' stand a chance! There'll be killin's next!"

"Calm yourself, Hagrid," Dumbledore said sharply. "If the governors want my removal, Lucius," he continued, looking at Malfoy, "I will of course step aside."

"But-" Fudge spluttered, eyes wide.

"No!" growled Hagrid.

Calla almost wanted to speak her own protest, if it weren't for the fact that they had to stay hidden.

Dumbledore, however, had his blue eyes still fixed on Lucius Malfoy. "However," he said, voice slow and clear, "You will find that I will only truly have left this school when none here are loyal to me. And that help," Calla could have sworn he looked right at them, even covered by the Cloak, "will always be given at Hogwarts, to those who ask for it."

"Your sentiments are admirable," Malfoy said with a bow. "I'm sure we all shall miss your, er, individual way of running things at Hogwarts. We hope that your successor will manage to prevent any - ah - unfortunate... Killin's."

With that, he strode to the door of the cabin and pushed it open, and bowed Dumbledore out of the cabin. Fudge fiddled nervously with his bowler hat, seeming to wait for Hagrid to go on ahead of him, but Hagrid remained, took a deep, considerate breath and said carefully, "If anyone wanted ter find out some stuff, all they'd have to do would be ter follow the spiders. That'd lead 'em right! That's all I'm saying."

Calla barely heard or noticed him as he left wit Fudge, a sudden thought occurring to her. She was shocked she hadn't thought of it before. The spiders in her vision, that great, many-legged creature that Harry had seen Hagrid with in the diary. The door banged shut, shaking Calla from her thoughts. Ron yanked the Invisibility Cloak off - he was paler in the ill light.

"We're all in right trouble now," he said in a cracked, hoarse voice. "No Dumbledore. The school might as well close tonight. There'll be an attack a day with him gone."

"The spiders," Calla said quietly, glancing at Harry and then Ron, and back again. "The spiders."

X

When she finally got herself back to the dormitory that night, it was empty, and so after stashing the Map safely in a drawer she headed up to the other side of the tower, where the boys' dormitory was. None of them should be out of bed at that time, but it didn't seem anyone in Ravenclaw Tower was able to sleep anyway. She slipped in through the open door, already hearing familiar voices.

Everyone looked up at her as she entered, face blazing. "Where've you been?" Lisa asked, somewhat suspiciously.

"Visiting Hagrid," she said honestly in a quiet voice, sitting next to Padma on Anthony's bed. "Harry and Ron snuck out, too."

"Why?" Michael asked, wrinkling his nose.

She debated for a long moment on what she should say, or could say. Padma pressed her shoulder against hers comfortingly. "Dumbledore's been removed as Headmaster," she said finally, to gasps all around.

"What?" blurted Mandy, eyes wide in shock. "But they can't do that, Dumbledore's the - well, Dumbledore's Dumbledore, isn't he? He's about the only thing keeping the school together!"

"Will Hogwarts have to close?" asked Isobel, biting her lip worriedly. As a muggleborn she was already in a lot more danger than the rest of them, but if she had to leave Hogwarts, where would she go? Where, Calla thought with a jolt, would she and Harry go? Where would Hermione go, when she was unPetrified? Where would any of them go?

A lifetime with the Dursleys sounded like the worst thing imaginable, especially now she knew of the magical world. Maybe she and Harry would get to move in with her godfather, but if they hadn't yet Calla worried it wouldn't be a possibility.

"I don't know," she said, upon realising everyone was looking at her. "They've taken Hagrid away, too."

"Why?" Padma asked, furiously. "Hagrid hasn't done anything!"

"They think it's him," she said in a low voice, to murmurs of disagreement. "They've got no eveidence but Fudge doesn't care about that-"

"You've met Cornelius Fudge?" Daphne asked, whipping around from where she sat in the corner of the room. Calla was surprised she hadn't spoken already. "How've

"Well," Calla said sheepishly, wondering how she'd get out of this one, "we didn't actually meet. We er, we were invisible. We weren't meant to be there obviously."

Michael gave a huff. "They must be struggling to hush it all up now, then," he said. "It'll be out in the Daily Prophet soon enough, I expect. Personally I thought we'd see Dumbledore gone long before now; it was only a matter of time."

"That's positive," muttered Isobel under her breath.

"So what are we going to do about it then?" said Lisa. Calla stared at her. "We can't do much, I know that, but surely we can do something. It's a completely illogical decision. Without Dumbledore, the school is exposed and the security is down."

Hagrid's words echoed in Calla's head - "There'll be killin's next!"

"We can't reverse it," Terry said gloomily. "If Fudge has his mind made up its not like a bunch of second years are going to change it."

Lisa let out a resurrected groan and flopped down onto Michael's bed. "Well, you all heard Elizabeth in the common room. We all stick together from now on, we don't let each other disappear and get lost - even you, Potter," she added to Calla. "It's the safest and smartest option. We don't go running off, and if we have any ridiculous, Gryffindor like inclinations to be reckless and run off to catch the killer, we do our research first. We let each other know what's going on, right?"

"Lisa's right," Daphne said from the corner,sounding very begrudging. Padma shot her a very obvious glare. "We'll go to breakfast as one. Stay together."

"And how do we be certain the heir isn't one of our own?" Padma asked coolly, eyes fixed on Daphne.

"Common sense," snapped Daphne in return. "I know I've not been the nicest to you all but don't assume that means I'd do anything to hurt you, or muggleborns."

The rest of the Ravenclaws seemed utterly bemused by this declaration, but Calla knew Padma must have let slip her suspicions at some point. "I know," she said quietly to her friend, who gave a grateful smile. Padma scowled. "And accusing each other isn't going to keep us safe. We need to be united, like Lisa's said."

She hadn't expected to agree with Lisa on anything, but she supposed it was the right time for it, after all.


	33. Ch32 - Follow the Spiders

Summer might have been the prettiest season to some, but this year it felt entirely wrong. The Ravenclaw Common Room was more subdued than Calla had ever seen it, some of the upper years sitting in armchairs not even really studying, some barely doing anything at all. Even the warm sun didn't lift the cold spirits of everyone around Calla.

Visitors had now been officially banned from the Hospital Wing, on account of Madam Pomfrey's belief that the attacker might come back and try to "finish them off". But they were escorted around with such tight control that it was impossible to even try and slip away unnoticed to visit her. This presented another complication for Calla: she needed to find those giant spiders, determined that they would have answers for her, or at least a small lead, but she couldn't get away from any of the teachers, and her classmates wouldn't let her out their sights either, as a result of their pact. She supposed it was sweet, but that didn't mean that she wouldn't rather disappear.

Daphne had offered to cover her so she could sneak off one day after Defense, but Padma had given her such a warning look that she'd had to refuse her on grounds that Padma might be the one to finish both of them off.

Now word was out that Dumbledore had gone, too, fear in the castle had spread so wide you could almost feel it, a cold sort of mist that hung over everybody's heads and around their throats. Laughs were few and far between, and everyone Calla passed look stressed and tense. Zach didn't speak much, and most of the houses, too, seemed to be keeping to themselves, feeling they couldn't trust anyone outside their own small circles. Even the Slytherins looked worried, and more than once Calla caught Tracey Davis talking to her friend Lily Moon alone at the other end of the table, away from everyone else in their year - away from the purebloods. With Dumbledore gone, her 'lessons' in Occlumency had been cancelled - not that they'd done much good in the first place - as had her lessons with Trelawney, who had apparently taken to hiding in her tower and refusing to leave until the monster was caught.

She knew that Harry was still thinking about Dumbledore's words. The two of them hadn't seen each other as much, since such a tight grip was kept on the inhabitants of the school. They only really got to speak in fleeting moments in the Great Hall, between classes in corridors, or occasionally in Transfiguration if McGonagall's back was turned or her attentions elsewhere - which was far from often.

Padma and Daphne were barely on speaking terms, though that was hardly surprising to Calla now. She just wished that Padma could move past her suspicions and Daphne past her pride and everything could be sorted and fine; but nothing was ever that simple. At least Daphne wasn't with the Slytherins so much anymore, which eased some suspicions from others in their year - mainly Mandy and Terry - but to Padma, this was apparently all a clever ruse designed to lead them off of her scent.

The opportunity to 'follow the spiders' came at last on one of the summer's warmest days, when Calla was exhausted from wrestling between Daphne and Padma in Herbology - both of whom kept snidely arguing with one another - and listening to Draco Malfoy go on about how it was his father who had caused Dumbledore's release, how he'd been waiting for it for years now. Daphne said nothing, but both Calla and Padma were furious with Malfoy and his bragging, and by the time they stomped back to the castle were in foul moods.

She'd let out a yell as someone grabbed her arm, only to realise that it was Harry dragging her into a quiet, shaded corner. Padma and Daphne were at her back. "What did you have to do that for?" she grumbled, shaking his hand off. "What's going on?"

"We're going tonight," Harry informed her quickly. "Me and Ron spotted all these spiders in the greenhouses, headed to the Forbidden Forest, so we're going to go out tonight. If you keep an eye on your map you can see when we're heading." He glanced uncertainly at Padma and Daphne. "Do you want to come with us?"

She stared. Not really, a part of her said. No she did not want to follow spiders into the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night, and she certainly did not think that Uncle Moony would approve of her doing so. But Harry had already decided what he was going to do.

"Of course I want to come," she said, laughing uncertainly. "Come and get me at Ravenclaw Tower, but stay outside under the cloak, the door-knocker's a nightmare to get past at times."

"You can't," Daphne said to her quietly. "We're all sticking together, right, all the Ravenclaws. You can't just sneak out, Calla."

"I'll go with you," Padma said defiantly, with a clear glare at Daphne. "Four people will be more than safe enough."

"Five," Daphne said with a hard edge to her voice. Harry looked at Calla bemusedly. "I'm going too."

"You can't go-"

"Why not?"

"Because - because you-"

"Because you think I'm up to something and can't use your brain enough to realise that actually, I'm trying to help you all?" Daphne said coolly.

Padma's glare looked like it might sever Daphne's head from her shoulders. "Because I don't trust you," she said flatly. "There's no way I'm letting you go into the Forbidden Forest, where anything could happen, so that you can - can kill Calla or something."

"You're crazy," Daphne decided, while Calla stared awkwardly between the two, no idea what to say. Whatever Padma thought of her, and whatever evidence did cast suspicion, Calla thought that the idea she might kill her was, well, a bit too far fetched.

Harry looked like he wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible, and Calla didn't blame him. Leaving the other girls to it, the two of them shifted away, to the Great Hall for a very quick dinner. Padma and Daphne arrived at a quarter to six, both looking furious with each other, but Calla wasn't very inclined to sit with them. Instead she remained sandwiched between Harry and Ron, the latter of whom looked very queasy indeed at the idea of following spiders into the Forbidden Forest.

The three girls stayed up late in the common room, Calla always with one eye on the map. Daphne was engrossed in a book about wand legends, and Padma absently made a couple of quills fly around the common room like a bird. Calla huddled in a squishy blue armchair, desperately trying to change a brown jewellery box to a blue colour. She thought maybe it had taken on a grey tinge about midnight, when she glanced over at her map and spotted Ron and Harry's dots coming down the corridor to the Ravenclaw Tower entrance.

"They're here," she said quietly to Daphne and Padma. In a corner, two fourth years were engrossed in a game of chess, but they were the only other people there and Calla didn't think they'd notice them creeping out. "Are you both sure-"

"We're sure," Daphne said with an air of finality. She scooped up their books, Calla's box and Padma's quills and hid them under a chair for when they came back. The three of them made their way across the room and, with a final nervous glance back at the couple playing chess, slipped out of the tower.

Under the cloak, the five of them were definitely a tight fit, but they managed to manoeuvre themselves around the castle, avoiding teachers with the aid of Calla's map.

"Course," said Ron as they traipsed over he black grass outside the castle, "we might get there and there might be no spiders at all. I know they looked like they were going in that general direction of the forest, but-"

"Ron, we all know you're just scared of spiders," Daphne said shortly. "Get over it."

"Don't tell him to-"

"Shut up, both of you," Harry hissed, as they came to the door of Hagrid's house. "We could do without your squabbling."

Calla got a bit frustrated at him telling her friends to shut up, but he was right, to her further annoyance. Hagrid's hut looked sad and empty without its inhabitant, and its windows were blank. Fang, who Calla supposed must have been shut up without anyone to see since Hagrid was taken to Azkaban, jumped up and down as he spotted them, barking loudly. Padma shushed him with treacle tart as Harry took off the cloak and left it on Hagrid's table.

They wouldn't need it in the dark of the Forest, after all.

"Come on, Fang," said Calla, petting the dog's back gently with a smile. "Let's go for a walk, eh?"

Fang seemed happy as could be as he bounded out of the house, towards the forest. Daphne on the other hand, looked terrified as she crept closer and pressed against Calla's side. "You don't think this is a bit unsafe, do you?"

"A bit," Calla said nervously, watching Harry, who seemed to be entirely within his element. "But we'll be alright, I'm sure. It'll be fine." She didn't think her words really inspired confidence - even in herself.

Harry lit the end of his wand with a quick, "Lumos!" so that they could only just see the path before them, and spot any signs of spiders.

"I'd light mine too," Ron muttered to Calla, as both Daphne and Padma illuminated patches of the path. "But I reckon it'd, you know, blow up or something like that."

Calla laughed. "I think mine just wouldn't work at all."

"There," Harry said, tapping Calla on the shoulder and pointing at the grass, where Daphne had stopped down. A couple of spiders were hurrying across the ground, out of their wandlight and into the shade that the trees provided.

"Okay," Ron said with a resigned sort of sigh. Daphne looked back at him with a smirk. "I'm ready. Let's go."

"Try not to scream," Daphne said to Ron, as Padma gave her yet another glare.

Fang scampered around them, between Harry who led the way and Ron and Calla, who lingered behind the other three nervously. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to have the two with the least reliable magic pulling up the rear, but Calla would rather they were at the back than at the front.

Following the glow from the others' wands, they watched as the spiders scuttled away, deeper into the darkness of the forest. "I'm really not too keen on this," Ron whispered to Calla, just out of earshot of the rest.

"Me neither," she whispered back, glancing at her entirely ineffective wand. Were anything bad or dangerous to happen to them tonight, neither she nor Ron were equipped to deal with it, a prospect that worried her. She hastened her footsteps, sticking tight to the rest of the group so as not to get separated, and Ron cottoned on too, matching pace with Daphne and Padma. The two girls went on in a stony, tense silence that Calla could almost feel in the air.

As they trudged deeper on into the forest, Calla kept an eye out for more spiders, or for anything that might pose a threat. The spider she'd seen had been massive, it wasn't likely to be able to sneak up on them unawares... She hoped.

But the only spiders they followed were small, perfectly average looking things, spare for the way they all went on together, in straight lines. She'd never seen spiders move like that, all co-ordinated and organised. It reminded her of the fire drills they'd had in primary school, when all the students had to evacuate the building in two straight lines and go to their fire safety point. A thought occurred to her, then: could it be that the spiders were evacuating from whatever was in Hogwarts?

She was about to voice this question, when the spiders leant off the beaten path, entering the deeper part of the forest, where the trees were thicker, darker, and denser than before. The darkest part of the forest; and doubtless the most dangerous, too. Calla wasn't sure her nerves were ready to find out exactly why the forest was forbidden to students.

But she reminded herself that she had to have faith in Hagrid's instructions, and if he told them to follow the spiders then that was what they must do. All five of them paused, and Harry clearly debated the best course of action before Daphne spoke up. "We're going to lose them if we don't move quickly."

Harry looked back at them, and Calla gave him a encouraging nod. He continued to plough on and the rest followed dutifully, as it occurred to her that somewhere along the way of the last two years, Harry had become something of a leader to them all, her included. But she didn't have time to dwell on that, and Ron's steady stream of anxious muttering kept her distracted from many complex thoughts.

All of a sudden, Harry jumped back, crashing into Daphne who gave a startled shrieks and clutched Padma's arm, only to be shaken off a half second later. "What d'you reckon?" Harry asked, addressing the group. "Do we go on now?"

"As long as you don't crash into me," said Daphne darkly, though Harry pretended not to hear her.

"We've come this far," Ron said in a weak voice. "Might as well."

And so they went on, following the bare shadows of the spiders as the darkness got longer and thicker, blotting out the stars. They had to watch their step, for tree roots twisted over the ground, difficult to see unless one strained their eyes to look out for them. The group stopped a couple of times, so that Harry, Daphne or Padma could keep their wands trained on the trail of spiders and make sure that they were following them in the right direction, not just wandering aimlessly. Though sometimes it did seem they were just wandering aimlessly.

They grew quiet as they ventured on, all a bit scared to speak. Calla was sure they could all hear her heart hammering in the darkness that pressed around her. The faint shadows on the trees seemed to twist and contort, creating faces that leered and jeered at her, and her heart picked up, beating against the cage of her ribs. She was scared to speak but there was nothing that she wanted more than to run away and get out of there. It felt wrong and it felt dangerous, and nausea swept over her as she contemplated the fact that she didn't honestly know the way out.

Then Fang gave a sharp bark and Padma rushed to shush him, as Calla's heart picked up again like a drum. "Can you hear that?" Daphne whispered, and they all strained their ears to listen.

"There's something moving over there," Harry said quietly. "Listen... It sounds big."

The image of a great, hulking spider fell into Calla's mind and she tried to keep down her fear. Could giant spiders smell fear? She really hoped not; all of sudden all Calla really wanted was to go back to the safety and warmth of Ravenclaw Tower, curiosity be damned.

But then she thought of Hermione, cold as stone, and Penelope and Justin and little Colin Creevey, and of Hagrid stuck in wizard prison for a crime Calla was sure he would never have committed, and she clutched her wand tighter so as to pretend it could do any use.

She shivered, and Harry crept forward, as the sound of something roared through the forest. But it wasn't like an animal's roar, not a bear or lion, but almost like an engine. "What is it?" she whispered, unsure of what was to come. Harry shushed her.

"It'll hear you," he said, to which Ron let out a hysterical sort of laugh.

"It's already heard Fang!" he said, voice high with fear.

They'd come to a stop, and Calla could hear Daphne and Padma's nervous breathing. "Are you sure we shouldn't go back?" Daphne whispered to her as quiet as Calla was sure it was possible for her to be.

"We've come this far," Padma snapped. Harry shushed her again. "And you wanted to come, didn't you?"

"What do you think it's doing?" Harry whispered softly to Calla, who shrugged nervously. She was all too aware of her shaking hands.

"Getting ready to attack us, probably," Ron said, in a quivering voice.

Calla paled at that, feeling suddenly cold. Her last experience in the forest hadn't exactly been safe, and now they didn't have Hagrid to protect them, she felt all too exposed. "Maybe we should turn back," she suggested to Harry in a quiet voice.

"What?" He stared at her. "We can't go back now!"

"I'm with Calla," said Daphne, already beginning to back away. "The Ravenclaw common room's looking really nice right now."

"You're the one who wanted to-"

Padma was cut off by the roar of an engine revving up again. Bright lights blasted through the gaps in the trees and Ron whimpered, backing up onto Calla's feet, causing her to let out a pained yelp. Fang brushed against Calla's leg, yowling, but then Ron let out a cry and began to rush forwards in relief. "Harry!" he called back over his shoulder, as calla's brother surged forwards after him. "You lot, look, it's our car!"

"You what?"

Hardly daring to believe it, Calla went forward after her brother. She could make out through the trees a rather beaten, muddy blue ford Anglia with one window smashed and the bonnet dented. She stared, first at the car then at Harry and Ron.

The flying Ford Anglia had gone wild.

"Tell me that is not the thing you flew to school in," Daphne said with a certain air of disgust. "That thing looks wild."

"It was better when we flew it," Ron muttered, casting Daphne a dark glare.

"Into a tree," Daphne muttered back. Padma rolled her eyes and looked at Calla as if to suggest she should do the same. Calla was caught between amusement and just wanting to get out of the forest. Something told her, whether a 'sixth sense' or just ordinary common sense, that the car was one of the tamer things they'd encounter while in the forest.

Ron was moving towards the car, which slowly trundled its way over to him, bonnet bumping up and down like a moving mouth. "It's been in here this whole time!" he cried, beaming around at them in delight. "Look, I think it's gone wild! But it found us; clever car!" He grinned at Calla, who gave what she hoped looked like an excited smile. "And to think, we thought it was going to attack us! I wondered where it had gotten to."

"I wouldn't get too close," Daphne said, looking down her nose at the car. "It's practically feral."

"We've lost the trail," harry said, distractedy squinting around at the ground. "We'd better find-"

Something bony and hairy wrapped around Calla's middle and she let out a shriek, dropping her wand onto the floor. Harry whipped around, eyes going wide. There was a loud clicking noise and he and Ron, who was by now white with terror, were lifted up and off the ground. The thing turned Calla around so she was upside down and even with the blood all rushing to her head, she realised with a wave of cold fear that it was the giant spider from her vision, come to find them. Its pincers clicked beneath her, as they waded further into the forest. Daphne was yelling herself hoarse, and Calla could just make out Padma swinging from a spider's great pincers, looking rather like she was about to be sick all over the forest floor. Calla tried to keep a look-out for her wand, which had slipped from her hand, but it was too dark and she couldn't see it. Even considering its recent failings, she felt empty without it, and altogether rather powerless.

The sensation of being upside down was not a pleasant one, and the look of the muddied, dark ground swaying beneath her only made Calla more terrified, so she squeezed her eyes shut and hoped that it would be over soon.

She didn't know how long it took until she went tumbling back to the ground, with only just enough time to snap her eyes open and place her hands onto the forest floor so that she could steady herself. She clambered unsteadily to her feet as her body righted itself, and had to hide a scream. Spiders were coming from all directions, through the trees and down a leaf-strewn slope into the clear little hollow in which they stood. Hanging between the group of trees at the bottom of the slope was a silvery web, lit by the starlight that came through the gap in the trees.

"Harry!" she whispered, rushing to her brother's side. Ron was by him, mouth stretched open like he was trying to scream and failing miserably. Daphne and Padma rushed up behind her, Padma shaking from terror.

"Spiders," she whispered. "Giant spiders. Fantastic."

But it was then that Calla realised one of the spiders was saying something through the clicking of its pincers. "Aragog!" it called. "Aragog!"

An even larger spider, which looked to be the size of an elephant, emerged from the shadows behind the web. Its black hairs were streaked with grey and age - Calla didn't realise spiders could visibly age, but this one gave the definite impression of being elderly - and its eyes were a milky blue, almost white. It was blind, she realised. "What is it?" the giant spider asked, with rapid clicking of its pincers.

"Men," said that same spider, in a throaty voice.

"Hagrid?" Aragog asked, clicking its pincers and turning its head around, as though to listen out for a giant heartbeat.

"Strangers," clicked another spider.

"Kill them." A jolt of terror went through Calla's chest. "I was sleeping."

"Oh, brilliant," Daphne said faintly, backing away. "It's going to kill us."

"We're friends of Hagrid!" Calla shouted desperately, hoping it would earn them a moment to run. "He sent us to you!"

The spiders all around clicked their pincers, as if they were thinking together and as one. Aragog seemed to hesitate before saying, "Hagrid has never sent men into our hollow before."

"But Hagrid's in trouble," said Harry, out of breath. "That's why we've come to see you."

"In trouble?" Aragog clicked his pincers again, which sent another spear of fear into Calla. The sound was enough to shake her from the spine. "But then why has he sent you to me?"

Harry faltered, looking to Calla nervously. She gave the most confident nod she could manage, which was not very confident at all. "They think, up at Hogwarts, that Hagrid's been setting a - a - well, I don't know what, a something, on the students in the school. He's been sent to Azkaban."

There came another rapid, furious clicking sound that echoed all around the hollow like a very twisted, shaky applause. "But that was years ago," said Aragog, clicking sounding almost concerned now. "Years and years ago, I remember. Why has he been taken now? They have already made him leave the school that was why he was expelled, I should know, they thought that I was the monster that was killing all of those students. They believed Hagrid to have opened the chamber and set me free."

"Didn't he?" Daphne asked. Padma glared at her in the dark,

"And didn't you come from the chamber of secrets?" Harry asked.

"I?" Aragog clicked in anger, and Calla found herself stumbling backwards out of nerves. "I was not born in the castle! I came to Hagrid in the pocket of a traveller when I was nothing more than an egg, and he raised me. He was only a boy but he cared for me, looked after me, when I was hidden in a cupboard in the castle being fed off of the scraps he could get from the dinner table. He is my good friend, and he is a good man. He protected me all of these years and when I was blamed for the murder of a girl at the school, he continued to protect me and to defend me. I have lived here in the forest since then, and still Hagrid visits and protects me and cares for me. Hagrid even found me my wife, Mosag, and since then our family has grown and been well-nurtured in our land in the forest, as well you can see." Calla looked around at the circle of spiders that surrounded her and gulped down her terror.

"So you-" Harry began- "you never attacked anyone, then?"

"Never," Aragog croaked, sounding offended by the idea. "It would have been my instinct but out of respect for my friend I have never once attacked a human. The girl's body was discovered in a bathroom in the school-" Padma gasped- "and I never saw any of the castle except for the inside of the cupboard in which Hagrid raised me. My kind like the dark and the quiet, we do not seek out the crowded corridors like that of Hogwarts."

"But then..." Harry continued on, even though Calla could tell that the spiders were growing restless, and Aragog growing frustrated. It was time to go. "Do you know what did kill that girl? Because whatever it is, it's back now and it's attacked more people-"

He was cut off by the sound of moving legs and clicking pincers, the spiders growing more restless. "I can't be the only one who wants to get out of here," Daphne whispered under her breath.

Calla wanted to agree, but couldn't bring herself to speak. "The thing that lives in the castle is an ancient creature," said Aragog, "one that we spiders fear above all others."

"But what is it?" Harry asked urgently. The spider clicked rapidly and Calla could feel Daphne and Padma begin to back away.

"We do not speak of it!" snapped Aragog. "We do not even name it, I did not tell even Hagrid the name of that - that dreadful creature, no matter how many times he asked it of me."

"Right," Harry said.

"Harry," Calla said as quietly as she could.

"We'll just get going then," said Harry, backing away with Calla and Ron, making to turn around.

"Go?" Aragog said slowly. "No, I think not... I do not prey on humans, at Hagrid's wishes. But I cannot deny my children their food when it so willingly wanders into their grasp. Goodbye, friends of Hagrid."

Not willing to wait on Harry's negotiations or the crawling of spiders, Calla turned and ran as fast as she could, Daphne right behind her. She barely got a step before she crashed into a wall of spiders, than pressed in around her. She shrieked, clutching Daphne's arm and tried backing away, only to run right into her brother, who flailed about for his wand.

Then there was a blare of light, and a blast like a car's horn, Calla froze and the spiders were thrown aside, crashing into the trees and into each other. The Weasley car thundered down the slope towards them at tremendous speed, flinging spiders out of the way, and Calla breathed an unexpected sigh of relief. Screeching to a halt before them, the car opened its doors. Calla didn't need to be asked to leap inside, still shaking. Daphne crashed in at her side, Padma close behind them while the boys spilled into the front seats, Ron looking terrified and white behind the wheel. Fang was thrown in the back with them, causing Daphne to shriek and shove him onto Padma, who shoved him back. He wound up in calla's arms, shaking and slobbering as the car reared into life and shot off.

"Wait!" Calla yelled. "I dropped my wand when they got us, we have to find it before we go!"

"Are you mental?" Ron yelled back, turning around with a horrified face. "I'm getting out of here as fast as I can!"

"Merlin's sake!" Daphne shouted as they crashed through the undergrowth. She leaned over Padma, who hissed and slinked back, and shoved open the car door, jumping out. The car slowed down somewhat and she ran alongside it.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for your wand!" she yelled, cheeks flushed and for a moment Calla wondered if she was actually enjoying all of this chaos. "I'll grab it and jump back in!"

"Get in the car!" Padma shouted at her, looking out the back window in terror. "Daphne!"

"It's fine!" she yelled back, and after a minute where Calla had no idea what to say and everyone else seemed to have been rendered speechless by Daphne's impulsiveness, Daphne stooped down, grabbed something and promptly flung herself back into the car and on top of a disgruntled Padma's lap. The car sped up again as she crawled into the empty space between Padma and Calla in the back. Breathless, she held out the familiar wand to Calla, who stared at it in shock.

"You're out of your mind," she whispered hollowly, taking it with numb fingers. "Thank - thank you."

"Anytime," Daphne said with a grin. She turned immediately to Padma, beaming like she expected praise, but all Padma did was stare.

It didn't seem like long before the car took them to the very edge of the forest, where it spit them out onto the ground, turned around and chugged back in amongst the dense trees. Fang scurried off immediately, leaping from Calla's arms as slowly they regained themselves and stood up. Ron was still white-faced, sitting on the ground like he was unable to get up.

When finally he regained the feeling in his limbs, he clambered slowly to his feet, swaying slightly. He was a bit green. Calla and the other girls stood with him while Harry went into Hagrid's hut to retrieve the cloak and let Fang back in. "I think I'm going to be sick," Ron said, and promptly did so, leaning over the pumpkin patch and clutching his stomach. Padma let out a gasp of disgust, Daphne glared at him, and Calla watched it all numbly.

"Follow the spiders," Ron muttered as Harry came back outside. "Of course it was follow the spiders. Why couldn't it have been follow the butterflies?"

"Because butterflies aren't as murderous," Daphne said, unnervingly cheerful. "And it's Hagrid."

"Oh, shut up, Daphne!" Padma spat, rounding on the blonde girl. "Just shut up!"

"We're lucky to be alive," Ron was muttering to himself, leaning against Harry. "Oh, I'm going to kill Hagrid."

"He probably didn't think the spiders would hurt his friends," Harry reasoned. He glanced at Calla and offered a sympathetic smile. "Are you alright? Your wand's still okay, isn't it, no one stood on it?"

For what she thought might have been the first time, Calla looked at her wand, which didn't have so much as a scratch on it. She breathed a sigh of relief. "Yeah," she said quietly. "Yeah, it's... Fine, somehow."

"Hagrid never thinks," Ron muttered, thumping his hand against the wall. "He loves all these dangerous monsters, says they won't hurt anyone and look where all of this has gotten him, eh? A cell in Azkaban, that's where!"

"Let's just go," Calla said, reading Ron's nerves and the tension between Daphne and Padma.

"Hold on," Harry said quietly, though he made off up the path with them. "We need to talk about this; why might not get a chance."

"Well," Padma said as he threw the Invisibility Cloak over all of them. "Now we all know that it wasn't Hagrid who opened the Chamber of Secrets. He was innocent this whole time, just like I thought." Ron gave a derisive snort. "But this does beg the question of who opened it this time."

"Why are you looking at me?" asked Daphne, staring. "I didn't do it!"

"We know-" Calla began, but was cut off.

"Well, you did seem quite determined to blame Hagrid, didn't you? And you couldn't wait to get away from the spiders."

"Because they were going to kill us!" Daphne shrieked in indignance.

"And you've been messing with Calla's wand all year!"

"What?" asked Harry, mouth hanging open in shock. Calla reeled back in surprise; she didn't expect Padma to actually come out and accuse Daphne in front of everybody. "You've been tampering with Calla's wand?"

"I have not!" Daphne yelled, face flushed and tears glistening in her eyes. "And I've tried to explain but clearly you won't even trust me so I might as well go!"

She tossed the cloak off and stomped off up to the castle. Calla took off after her as fast as she could, ignoring Harry and Ron's protestations. "Daphne!" she shouted, scrambling to get her map out so they wouldn't be caught. "Daphne, wait, you know I don't believe that!" But Daphne didn't seem to have noticed Calla, and she flung the doors to the entrance hall open. Calla yanked her back just as McGonagall and Flitwick were about to round the corner. She pulled her under the cloak with the others, holding her in place. They all at least had the sense not to speak, just shuffle back to the Ravenclaw Tower where the three girls could sneak inside. The moment they did, Padma rounded on Daphne furiously and said, "I don't care what your excuse is this time. You've betrayed us before and you have again and I don't trust that you won't do it a third time!"

"Padma, please-"

"I'm going to the dormitory." She grabbed ahold of Calla by the elbow. "Come on."

"Daphne, I'm sorry-"

But Padma dragged her away and Daphne turned her back as they slammed the dormitory door closed. Padma went straight to bed, shaking under the covers, but Calla stayed awake for a long time, waiting on Daphne returning. But she never did and Calla never managed to fall asleep.

The sun was already coming up when she decided to get out of her bed and start drafting a letter to Uncle Moony. She didn't know if he'd be able to help with any of this at all, but she had to tell him to get out everything she worried over, and to pass the time until she could rouse the other girls in her dormitory.

 _Dear Uncle Moony_ , she began, and then stopped as she realised she had no idea how to put everything into words without worrying him.

 _Things are getting worse here_ , she wrote nervously, hand shaking and quill scratching unevenly at the page. _Hermione's been Petrified, and a Ravenclaw prefect called Penelope. They've made Dumbledore leave and Hagrid's been taken to Azkaban because they think it's his fault but it's not and it's completely unfair and they have no proof but I'm sure that Lucius Malfoy's been interfering with things and that's why they've both had to go even though everybody knows Dumbledore is what keeps Hogwarts safe! People are saying that they might have to close Hogwarts, but they can't do that, right? We wouldn't the able to learn otherwise and the school hasn't been closed in almost a thousand years. I don't know where Harry and I would go. The Dursleys would gloat the whole time and I don't know if the Muggle education system would let us back in after two years of absence - how does that even work with the two systems, surely the Muggle authorities would have to make sure we went to a school they knew of? I suppose someone in the Ministry figures these things out._

 _Anyway, Daphne and Padma are still arguing and they're doing my head in because Padma thinks Daphne's behind all of this even thought I'm sure that she's wrong because Daphne wouldn't do that. She thinks that Daphne's the reason my wand's been acting up recently, but I really don't think she is because it doesn't make any sense. I know she's been a not very great friend recently but she wouldn't damage my wand - she even saved it tonight when we got attacked by giant spiders (more on that later)._

She paused over her next words, uncertain if it was something she could even bring herself to put down in paper. She was scared to even think it.

 _I don't think my wand's the problem. I think maybe I'm just not very good at magic and because it's been more and more difficult this year, and with everything going on, I'm struggling. I don't want to and I wish that I was better, like Harry is, because he's a great wizard and I still can barely turn a porcupine into a pin cushion. I can't even get it to stop running away from me._

 _It might be silly and I don't like to bother you but I don't want to talk to Harry because he'll probably tell Ron and he doesn't really get it and I feel stupid talking about it and it feels a bit easier to write down for some reason even if it is really embarrassing. Anyway, I said I'd tell you about the giant spiders and don't worry because we're all fine, but we decided to follow the spiders so we could find out more about the chamber of secrets and we found out that it wasn't Hagrid at all. I thought that, but it's good to have it confirmed. Unfortunately we did then get attacked by giant spiders, but we all got out fine apart from Ron, who's a bit scared of spiders and threw up in Hagrid's pumpkin patch._

 _Other than that we're all okay. I don't want you to worry about me because I think I'm okay, I just need to tell someone about things. Hope to hear from you soon, and Harry and I both love you very, very much!_

 _All my love,_

 _Calla_

She folded the letter up and, right on cue, Moony came flying into the window. Calla let her in and she gave a loud hoot that startled both Lisa and Mandy out of their beds.

"That bloody owl of yours!" Lisa shouted, groaning as she flopped back down onto her mattress. "Can't you just go to the owlery?"

Calla ignored her, stroking Moony's feathers as she tied the letter to her leg. "Take this to Uncle Moony," she said, and handed Moony a few owl treats which she gobbled down. She gave a very soft, affectionate sort of hoot, and then fluttered off out of the window. Calla watched her go nervously, tiredness finally setting in. From the clock beside Isobel's bed, it was half past five in the morning. She shut the window and fell back into bed, shutting her eyes and falling into an uneasy, short sleep.

Xxxxx

 **Lost: Thank you! I'm super excited to explore the relationship between Calla and Sirius and it's part of the reason I'm so psyched for writing third year because I can't wait to develop it and work out how it changes the dynamic of existing relationships and how their relationship works out!**

 **AStrangeHopefulDreamer: Daphne's storyline and character is one I'm really excited about exploring in this fic so I'm glad you're excited to! The deal with Calla's wand will also be explored, and it's something I'm really enjoying working out.**

 **Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited and followed, it means the absolute world to me to know what you all think of Calla and her story!! Much love! Xx**


	34. Ch33 - The Chamber

Daphne was already in the Great Hall when the Ravenclaws went down for breakfast, looking exhausted and puffy-eyed. Calla made to go sit by her, but Padma took a seat at the complete other end of the table and glared the entire length of it down to Daphne.

On awkward footing and unsure of what to do, Calla turned around and made her way to the Gryffindor table where Harry and Ron already sat, heads bent in deep. Harry looked up when she arrived, and scooted away from Ron to make space for her. "All these times we were down in her bathroom and she was only three cubicles away," Ron moaned on Calla's other side, "and we could have asked her and now we can't."

She frowned at him. "What?" She'd barely managed to think on last night, despite having so much time to do so.

"Moaning Myrtle," Harry supplied in a quiet voice. "Aragog said the girl who died was found in a bathroom, remember? Well, we thought it might be Myrtle."

"Oh." She nodded absently, head a bit fuzzy from so little sleep. "Right. So you're going to try and talk to her then, I guess?"

But Harry didn't reply. He was frowning at her in deep concern. "You look exhausted," he said. "Didn't you get to sleep last night?"

"For about an hour," she said, yawning. "I'm fine though."

"An hour?" He took a plate from the middle of the table and began heaping it with food. The smell of bacon turned her stomach. "Calla, you must be exhausted!"

"I'm fine," she insisted, though she took the toast and banana that he offered. "Promise. I'll get an early tonight," she teased.

He nodded grudgingly. "Just make sure you're sleeping better. We - well, we all need to be alert, don't we?"

Blinking stupidly in her tiredness, it took Calla a moment to register what Harry was worried about. She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile and a one-armed hug. "I'm not going to get Petrified," she told him firmly. "I'm fine. And so are you, just - just be careful."

"I always am," he said, and then she shoved his shoulder and he laughed and the mood lightened somewhat, somehow.

Still, after breakfast Calla didn't have any classes with Harry until Transfiguration at the end of the day, and she spent most of that time worrying about the chamber of secrets. It definitely wasn't Hagrid, and she was sure it wasn't Daphne, but then who could it be? And more importantly, what was the creature in the chamber? If only she'd been able to get into the library and read up on beasts, but it was closed to students now and she didn't want to bother anyone for books in the common room, considering how worried everyone was about Penelope. Some part of her had thought, had hoped, that with all the Ravenclaws gathered together they might be able to figure out the monster, but so far it didn't seem anyone had. And that honestly was one of the things that worried Calla the most.

Her Defense Against the Dark Arts class was a nonsense as usual, with Lockhart assuring them that the creature would be found soon enough, something absolutely no one believed. Herbology with Slytherin was also a disaster after she spilled soil all over Pansy Parkinson and broke Blaise Zabini's plantpot trying to clean up the mess with her wand. He'd eventually tidied for her, with a remark about getting her wand checked out that set her cheeks on fire.

By the time she got to Transfiguration, running on an hour of sleep, Calla was close to bursting into tears at any moment. This was not helped at all by McGonagall's announcement that their exams would be held in a week's time.

"But you can't still do exams!" Seamus Finnigan insisted, quite offended by the idea. The Ravenclaws whispered amongst one another - Calla knew Lisa, Sue and Michael were the only ones to have done any substantial studying.

"Professor, hardly anyone's been able to study!"

"Be that as it may, the point of Hogwarts remaining open at this one is to continue your education - which includes, I'm afraid, end of year examinations."

Calla buried her head in her arms. She hadn't studied at all, given everything, and her magic clearly wasn't working at all. She'd scraped passes in most classes mid-year; she doubted she'd pass anything except History of Magic at the rate she was going now. The rest of the class protested over and over to McGonagall, but there was no use in trying to get out of exams even if they all had good reason. Their own classmate had been petrified after all.

She left the class in an even worse mood than she'd entered, with Padma and Harry either side of her complaining, and a very furious Ron on Harry's other side. "She can't make us do exams!" Ron insisted. "It's ridiculous, it's completely unfair!" He held up his busted wand, which was emitting a faint whistling sound. "Can you imagine me sitting exams with this thing?"

"She can and she will, Ron," Padma said tiredly. "I'd better get studying; there's Parvati." She slipped away and Daphne was quick to take her place.

"So," she said with a vey forced smile. "Figured out who the Heir of Slytherin is yet?"

"No," Harry said shortly, giving her a sharp look. Calla's stomach swam as it occurred to her he might have agreed with what Padma had shouted the night before. "It's not something to grin about."

The smile fell from Daphne's face. "Right," she said. "Sorry. Calla, are you coming back to the common room? I guess I'll be needing your help on the goblin wars, that was the topic you took notes on?" Away back at the beginning of the year all the Ravenclaws had divided up note taking for History of Magic, so that they could discuss the topics better as a group and so those who didn't need to could sleep through class.

In honesty, Calla has quite forgotten about the arrangement but she nodded anyway. "I'm sure I can find the notes somewhere. And just so you know," she said, dropping her voice, "I know you didn't do anything to my wand, and you didn't have anything to do with the chamber."

"Thanks," Daphne said shortly, looking along the corridor wistfully. "I just wish Padma agreed with you."

X

"Alright everybody!" called a sixth year Ravenclaw boy in the common room after dinner. Heads turned in his directions, stolen away from studying. "So, exams are coming up, which I think we can all agree is completely unfair."

"Hear, hear!"

"We have about a week to cram everything we've learned which for most of us isn't a lot. We've come to a decision that priority in studying should be given to fifth and seventh years, since they're sitting their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s this year! Everybody else, we're going to pool all our knowledge and notes from years past to try and get people through their exams. The sixth years will lead most of this to take pressure off the fifth and seventh year students. First years, don't worry too much, your exams don't count for too much and most teachers except Snape will be lenient given the circumstances. We have seven days, So tomorrow night we'll be hosting sessions for Potions and Care of Magical Creatures, Tuesday we'll focus on Transfiguration and Muggle Studies, on Wednesday it'll be Charms and Divination, Thursday will be Herbology and Arithmancy, Friday will be Astronomy and Ancient Runes, Saturday is Defense and History, and Sunday will be a general night for any questions and last minute studying people need to do."

He smiled unevenly. "Mark that in your timetables. Audrey-" he gestured to a brunette girl near him -"will be putting up a notice on the pin board for anyone who forgets or isn't sure. It's important that everyone gets sleep and eats properly too, so please look after yourselves, too, and stay alert." He bit his lip. "Exams are one thing, but your lives are far more important."

With that, he stepped down. There was a smattering of applause from around the room, and Calla turned dejectedly back to the porcupine that Lisa and Mandy had smuggled into the common room to practice on. She waved her wand and uttered the incantation to turn it into a pin cushion but all it did was give a small jump, glare at her, and then run over to the other side of the table. She slumped forward in exasperation.

"I'm going to fail," she declared. Padma rubbed her shoulder sympathetically.

"On the bright side, you're definitely not going to be the only one."

X

 _Dear Calla,_

 _I am so so sorry to hear about Hermione. What's happening at Hogwarts is terrible and I can't say I wouldn't rather you were both out of there and safe rather than in so much danger. If the school does have to close, I will do what I can to try and be able to look after you instead of the Dursleys. Dumbledore would never allow me to have custody and there were too many hoops they all tried to make me jump through, but you can't spend the rest of your lives completely removed from the magical world and anyone with any sense must be able to see that._

 _Please, please don't do anything rash or reckless. I know last year you and Harry felt you had to save the stone, but this is not your fight. You are children, whether you like it or not, and your parents have their lives for you both to live; don't throw away their sacrifice. I understand why you want to help but it is not your job and it should not be put on two twelve year olds._

 _Stay safe until you return from school. I don't care what you get in your exams, just so long as you come back to me safe. I said earlier this year that I might be able to keep you both with me for the Summer - I'm still working on it but hopefully you will be able to see me sometime around your birthday._

 _Again, stay safe, and keep your brother safe, too. I will see you again as soon as I can._

 _All my love,_

 _Uncle Moony_

It didn't say anything about her magic not working or offer a solution, but even just seeing his handwriting made Calla feel a bit better. She set the letter aside and drafted a reply.

 _Dear Uncle Moony,_

 _I'm doing my best to stay safe. The teachers are keeping close eyes on all of us, but all anyone wants is for things to go back to normal. I'm trying to keep Harry out of trouble, but you know what he's like. I won't go looking for trouble, I promise. We'll stay safe and we always look after each other._

 _I hope we're able to see you soon - I've missed you! I promise to stay safe, and I'm going to make sure Harry does too._

 _Lots of love,_

 _Calla Potter_

X

It was three days before the exams were due to begin when McGonagall got up in the middle of breakfast to make another announcement to the school. The Great Hall went silent, everyone nervous and excited to hear what she had to say to them.

"I have good news," she said, and the Great Hall burst into a flurry of excitement.

"Dumbledore's coming back!" was the cry that came from several people across the Hall.

"You've caught the Heir of Slytherin!" squealed Sue, beaming.

"Quidditch matches are back on!" That last one came from Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Captain.

Calla sat up eagerly to see what McGonagall was about to tell them. "Professor Sprout has informed me," she said as the hubbub of the Hall began to calm down, "that the mandrakes are at last ready for cutting. Tonight we will be able to revive all of those who have been Petrified. I need hardly to remind you all that one of the victims, once revived, may be able to inform of us of who or what was behind these attacks. I hope that this dreadful year will finally come to an end, with us catching the culprit."

The hall erupted into cheers from all sides, and some of the sixth year girls grabbed each other in relief at the knowledge Penelope would be returning to them soon. Calla cheered along with them, flooded with relief and joy that Hermione would be returning to them soon; and likely with the knowledge of who the Heir of Slytherin truly was, if she knew the girl at all.

"Thank goodness," said Daphne, beaming. "Hogwarts won't have to close at all then, and we'll have everyone back!"

"I suppose you're furious," Padma said icily.

Daphne froze. "I've told you-"

"Stop," Calla whispered, exasperatedly. "Can't we just celebrate the fact that the Petrified students are going to be alright instead of fighting and accusing each other over and over again?"

X

Calla didn't get a chance to speak to Harry until their History of Magic class later that day. She'd been largely ignoring Daphne and Padma, who would only argue if they were made to be near each other, opting to stick by Isobel and Anthony during lessons.

They made their way back up to the castle after Herbology, all of them wishing that they could stay in the warm sun for just a short while longer. When Professor Sprout ushered them into their class, Binns was already there, looking rather tired as he floated about the room. The Gryffindors came in a moment later, and Calla craned her neck to try and get Harry to join her at her desk, but he didn't come in with the rest. She froze, stomach plummeting.

"Lavender," she whispered, stretching across her desk. "Where are Harry and Ron?"

Lavender's head snapped around, and her mouth fell open. "I - I don't know. They were with us when we left Defense Against the Dark Arts." Calla groaned into her arms. It was only a matter of time before Lockhart let someone slip away unnoticed, and lost sight of a student in his care. And it just had to be Harry, of course it did.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Parvati said in what was probably meant to be a reassuring voice, but did very little to actually reassure Calla.

She thrummed her fingers on the edge of the desk, remembering her promise to Uncle Moony. She'd stay safe - but she had to keep Harry safe too, and he'd gone wandering off and missed his class with the Heir of Slytherin still loose.

She knew where he must have gone; to speak to Moaning Myrtle. She glanced to the classroom door, considering going after him but too scared to move from her seat. It was like she was glued there, stuck running over every terrible eventuality in her head.

Professor Binns began his lecture, apparently oblivious to the fact that he was missing two students, and Calla heard her heartbeat picking up. There was a twinge in her forehead, then a blazing pain as the world flashed white and disappeared.

She was standing in a dark chamber, with the walls covered in slime and mulch. There was a grand statue of a man's face, with what looked like a massive serpent coming out of his mouth. She shuddered, tearing her eyes away to see a tiny form huddled on the floor, pale and cold and red-haired.

Her stomach plummeted. She tried moving towards the figure but was rooted to the spot. A cold hand laid itself on her arm and she froze, shuddering away, but the hand curled into ghostly, translucent smoke and disappeared. Water was splashed across the floor, with her own reflection staring up at her, and a hiss echoed around the chamber.

She shuddered at the sound of slithering scales. It was a snake. A giant snake. Of course.

Then the vision shuddered and turned around so fast Calla felt like she'd been shoved. She recognised the figure huddling on the ground, pale and shaking, with a nasty scar running down his forearm and bleeding. Harry.

She lunged away, squeezing her eyes shut, and found herself back in History of Magic, leaning against the back of her chair and almost tipped over. Padma pulled her back upright, staring. "Are you alright?" she whispered.

Calla was internally debating whether to tell Padma about what she'd seen, when a voice rang out around the classroom - Professor McGonagall's voice. "All students are to return to their house common rooms at once. All staff to report to the staff room. Immediately, please."

Her blood went cold. There was only one reason why they'd be ordered to the common room in the middle of classes, and it was a possibility she'd never wanted to think of. Someone must have been attacked, and judging by their absence, she was terrified it was Harry or Ron, or both of them.

Padma hoisted her out of her seat, staring around. "I'm sure it isn't him," she said quietly to Calla so no one else could hear. "He'll be okay, he always is."

Not listening, Calla fumbled in her bag for the Marauder's Map and pulled it out. She quickly whispered the words to open it, and it revealed itself quickly, ink dancing across the parchment. Her eyes searched frantically for Harry's name, and every second that went by while she couldn't see it made her stomach turn in terror. Her brother couldn't have been hurt, could he? And the vision that she'd just had, a red headed figure on the floor, that couldn't be Ron. No, it had too long hair, it couldn't -

"Ginny," she whispered, heart hammering.

"What?" Padma asked from her side, peering at the map.

But her eyes had finally found Ron and Harry, hidden in a cupboard of some sorts in the staff room. The teachers were all already crowding in there, and she was only slightly relieved. That didn't mean they were safe, but at least there were staff on hand. Unless they'd been Petrified there.

But that was ridiculous, wasn't it? They weren't muggleborns. But their mother was, Calla realised, and there were plenty of people who didn't like muggleborns who also supported You-Know-Who back in the day, she knew that. Terror ran through her again and she veered off to the left quicker than Padma could follow. There was a passage around a couple of corners and behind the portrait of Morgana, and she quickly said, "Lidium," like the figure on the map and it swung open. "Thank you," she said quietly, closing it behind her and sprinting down the spiral stairs.

It had been blocked up behind the staff room, but she could still hear through the wall what they were saying.

"A student has been taken into the chamber," said McGonagall soberly.

"Who?" asked Professor Sprout's voice, sounding fearful.

McGonagall hesitated before she spoke. "Ginny Weasley."

It was like the bottom of her stomach had fallen out entirely. Calla thought she might be sick. So Ginny had been taken, and she was down there all on her own, cold and hurt and alone and probably terrified - if she was even still conscious.

"There is no doubt about it now," McGonagall continued. "The school will have to be closed. The Hogwarts Express will be here tomorrow morning to take all of the students home to their families."

Calla kept a firm eye on the map, watching to make sure Harry and Ron didn't move. Then another dot burst into the side of the staff room, and she heard the distinct sound of a door banging open. She had hoped for a fleeting second it was Dumbledore back to save the day and the school, but a quick glance at the map told her it was Lockhart and her heart fell.

"Oh, so sorry," he said. "Must have dozed off. What have I missed?"

She resisted the urge to let out a sob of pure frustration. "Just the man," came Snape's silky voice. "Just the very man. It seems that your time has come at last, Gilderoy."

His time for what? Calla felt ill; surely they weren't considering sending Lockhart down to rescue Ginny? He'd get them both killed.

"H-has it indeed?" Lockhart asked, voice trembling.

"Why, yes," said Professor Sprout. "Weren't you telling me only yesterday that you knew where the chamber of secrets was and you only wished that you could've had a crack at the creature before they took Hagrid away."

"Ah, well, you see-"

"Ah, come now, Gilderoy," Flitwick said, a hint of smugness in his voice. "Surely you're up to the job as you've been telling us?"

"Of course," Lockhart said, voice cracking nervously. Calla didn't blame him for being terrified, but he'd brought it upon himself with his bragging. All year he'd been saying that he could defeat the heir, and now his time came and he was barely capable of stringing a sentence together at the thought. He was, Calla realised with a start, a coward. "I'll, er, just get to my office to get ready. Preparations, you see, yes." There was the sound of someone fumbling, and the door opening and closing again.

"Well," said Professor McGonagall's voice. "That's gotten him out from under our feet alright."

Calla sank down against the wall. She had to think. Ginny was down in the chamber but from her vision she didn't seem yet; nor did it seem like anyone else was going to save her anytime soon. She hadn't seen the girl much this year at all, come to think of it, and not nearly as much as she would have liked to. But she was Ron's sister, and she was her friend and she was only eleven. She must be so scared, she thought, and it was with that that she pulled a piece of parchment and a quill from her bag and set about writing very sloppily against the dusty stone floor.

 _FACTS_

 _Attack number one outside Myrtle's bathroom_

 _Attack number two near the Hospital Wing_

 _Attack number three in a corridor near the library_

 _Attack number four also near the library_

She tried to think of what these places all had in common but other than the two near the library, she had no idea. With a frustrated sigh, she drew a line and started scribbling down again.

 _Harry can hear the voice before attacks_

 _I can see attacks before they happen_

She pursed her lips. Was there a connection there, to You-Know-Who, if both of them had some sort of forewarning? It wasn't a fat, but she scribbled it at the side of her parchment as a potential thought, though it chilled her to the bone. Could it be to do with him? Could he have sent one of his people to carry out this work for him at Hogwarts? But they'd only seen things directly tied to him before... Did that mean that he was here?

She pushed that thought away, too terrified to think of it. She hadn't met him last time but she'd been close enough that it terrified her.

 _Harry can talk to snakes and hear the voice_

 _Possibly it is a snake? - would make sense because Slytherin's symbol is a snake_

But how was it getting around? Everyone would notice a snake, and besides, the students had been Petrified not bitten. It was like they'd been turned to stone.

Her heart caught in her chest. Of course!

She scrambled for her knowledge of Greek myths, of Medusa and her sisters - what were they called? Gorgons. She wrote the word down in great big letters, hands shaking.

Medusa didn't kill, but she turned her prey to stone. Perseus had survived her lair by using his shield as a mirror - maybe that was what Hermione was trying to do, she thought, with that mirror she'd held and that Calla had seen in her vision. How had it taken her so long to realise, to even sit down and try to think it through.

But it still didn't explain how the gorgon got around - maybe the snakes were concealed under a hat, but that didn't allow for the power of its eyes. There was no one she could think of in Hogwarts who routinely wore sunglasses.

She had to have a plan, she thought, but there was none. Harry and Ron had ran back to Gryffindor Tower according to the map, and Flitwick was already just around the corner from the Ravenclaw common room - there was no way she'd get back in time. She huddled in the dark passage, thinking. She'd told Uncle Moony she'd stay safe. This wasn't very safe.

She had to get back to the Tower, somehow. People would worry. But Ginny was still alone and she didn't trust Lockhart to have any idea where she really was. Maybe if she found Harry, told him what she thought... But how could she get to Gryffindor Tower and get in? She didn't even know the password.

She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her forehead against the cold stones. She had to do something, she knew that, but she had to be sensible about it. She needed a plan - and she needed her brother, too.

Then Calla remembered a revision method that Anthony had shared with her; he liked to make bullet points of information as well as bullet points for planning essays so that he had a general outline to go off of. She had no idea yet what that may be, but she was running out of ideas and if it worked, it could help to save her brother and Ginny.

1\. Stop Harry from going to the Chamber of Secrets.

But he was already far away, and Gryffindor Tower had people all around it. Ron hadn't been in the vision, which was odd because Harry and Ron wouldn't go without each other. A horrible, sickly thought went through her. Had something happened to Ron in this version of the future?

She scored out point number one. Harry wouldn't stay in Gryffindor Tower if he thought that someone was in danger, which meant that she had to get in and get Ginny out before her brother had a chance to put his own life in danger. Even if he did go down, if she was there then she knew what would happen and he'd have someone on hand to help him and to stop her vision from coming true. To stop him from dying down there as she was so sure would happen.

1\. Find out where the Chamber of Secrets is, and get inside.

2\. Find Ginny and get her out and safe.

3\. If possible, find the Heir of Slytherin and stop them.

She wanted to know who the heir was of course she did, but Ginny and her brother's lives were far more important than that. She had to think short-term and the immediate future.

"Right," she whispered to herself. She still didn't know what to expect - but, she realised, she could try her utmost to find out. "I'm going to go to the Chamber of Secrets."

If her visions were spawned by choices, then surely she would be able to see her choice's outcome, and where it took her? If she really, really tried. She squeezed her eyes shut, thinking of the chamber and her choice over and over in her head but there was nothing new, nothing to help her to actually get down there. Still, there was a very small tug behind her scar on her forehead, something trying to break through into her thoughts. She squeezed her eyes even harder shut, wishing that she could see something, anything, but there was still nothing. Every moment in that passage was a moment wasted.

What was the point, she thought, of being able to see the future if she couldn't control what she saw? If she couldn't see what she wanted to - what she really, really needed to?

With a groan, Calla crumpled up her parchment and stuffed it in her bag. There had to be something else, some way she could figure it out. But her head was completely blank as she sagged against the wall hopelessly, unable to think at all. And then a voice snuck into her head; a nasal, mocking voice of a long-dead teenage girl. "Can't you just work it out for yourself?"

She leapt to her feet, almost hitting her head off the ceiling in the process. The bathroom! It was the site of the first attack, it was a likely point for the creature to spawn - and, if she looked at the map, she could see that the other three locations all got gradually further away. She examined the map, trying to figure out if it could give her any hints. What linked the locations to the bathroom, and how could the creature get from there to the other places without being spotted? If it'd been kept in the bathroom then how could they have possibly missed it all the times that they'd been there, brewing Polyjuice Potion? Unless it wasn't in the bathroom at all... But she had to trust that there was a lead in there somewhere.

Wishing she'd been able to think of all of this beforehand, Calla examined her map and snuck off down the passage, taking the stairs until she came out near the dungeons. From there, she saw on the Map that Snape was coming along the corridor from the Slytherin common room to the Potions classroom. She kept her back to the wall, breathing as quietly as she could until she was sure that he was gone and not going to catch her, then snuck out from behind a tapestry and tiptoed upstairs. It surprised her that no one was thinking to guard the bathroom, especially since it was the scene of the first attack, but she was relieved by the corridor's emptiness all the same.

Myrtle's bathroom was unnervingly silent when Calla slipped inside. Her stomach swam with nerves and she nervously called out, "Myrtle?"

The ghost girl swooped out from her cubicle. "So you're back again, are you? What do you need this time?"

"Myrtle," Calla began cautiously. She didn't know how to broach the subject, or quite what the subject was. She should have done more and planned more and thought more, because now she just had no idea what to do. Were ghosts really sensitive about their deaths? Nearly Headless Nick had celebrated his, after all, but the Grey Lady never spoke of it. Then again, the Grey Lady rarely spoke at all.

"I was wondering," she said, sounding awkward even to her own ears and wishing someone else was here to figure out what to say. Harry, really. She needed Harry because he was much better at dealing with these things while she just put facts together. "You don't happen to know about any snakes down here? Or people with... Snakes for hair? Taking someone, a girl, somewhere?"

Myrtle looked at her. "What are you talking about? I haven't seen anything about snakes, thank you very much. Maybe you should ask your brother - I heard he speaks to them!"

"And who told you that?" Calla asked, surprising herself.

"The girl did," Myrtle said, quite cheerfully. "The little Weasley girl. Well, I heard her talking about it, I don't know who to. She speaks to them too." Calla's blood ran cold. What. "I've heard her... Hissing." Myrtle's eyes were alive with malice. "In my day they would have called her a freak."

Calla barely had the capacity to speak. If Ginny spoke Parseltongue... But that was ridiculous! She couldn't be the Heir of Slytherin, and Ron didn't speak Parseltongue and all the Weasleys had always been in Gryffindor, hadn't they? And someone would've noticed, wouldn't they? Ron or Percy or Fred or George or even Harry and Hermione. Someone should have noticed.

But it would explain why she'd gone to the chamber. But why? Why would she take herself there? She felt sick at the possibilities. "Where - Where was she hissing, Myrtle?" Calla asked, trying to keep her voice as even as possible.

"Somewhere over there," Myrtle said, gesturing to the sinks. Of course, Calla thought. If someone could get under the sinks there must be a great gap, maybe near the lake, where the plumbing would be, giving free space for a great chamber.

"Right," Calla said, hurrying around. Her eyes caught on one sink where the taps had snakes engraved in them, and she knew that she'd found the right one. "Myrtle, what was she hissing?"

"Oh, I don't know," Myrtle said. "I don't speak to snakes."

"Well, can you imitate what it sounded like then?"

"It was hissing." Myrtle made a sound like a paint can.

Calla hopelessly replicated, but nothing happened. Frustrated, she resisted the urge to kick the sink into obedience - maybe if she opened up a massive hole in the ceramics there would be no need for a secret way down. "Can't you do any better?"

"It's not my fault I don't speak to snakes," Myrtle said pouting. "I thought you were nice, but I'm not going to help if you just snap at me."

"I'm sorry, Myrtle," Calla said wearily. "But this is important, and people are in danger. I'm just... Worried."

But Myrtle didn't say anything else. Instead she just crossed her arms, pouted, and flew back into a toilet with a tremendous splash. And that, Calla supposed, was the end of that.

She turned back the sink with a sigh. There weren't many options now, and so she started to hiss and hiss and hiss, hoping something worked. It didn't.

"Oh come on," she muttered. There had to be some sort of spell to help with this, didn't there? She wracked her brain but nothing was coming to her. Gingerly, she pulled her wand out, tapping it against the sink. It didn't do anything; she wasn't surprised. Calla ran through every spell that she could but there was nothing to help her talk to snakes.

And then she stopped. Of course. Nervously she raised her wand, pointing it at the sink. She didn't know quite if the spell would work - actually, she heavily doubted it, seeing as her magic routinely failed her these days - but she tried it anyway. "Serpensortia!" she said, and to her utmost surprise and shock, a real snake leapt from the tip of her wand. It curled around the edge of the sink and moved to stare at her with narrow yellow eyes. It hissed, but upon realising hat Calla would not hiss back, turned back to the taps and wrapped itself around them.

"Can you..." Calla began timidly, as the snake fixed its gaze on her "...tell it to open?"

The snake didn't seem to know what she said, which wasn't surprising, but then Calla felt a strange jolt behind her naval, of something calling out to her magic. The snake moved upwards to look her in the eye and then hissed something unintelligible.

And the sink began to move.

X

The chamber was colder than she'd thought, and it was so dark that she could barely see in front of her. Calla shivered, wrapping her cloak tighter around her and wishing she had something warmer with her. But this wasn't the time for comfort.

She got two steps before freezing, heart hammering. Why had she come down here? She had to save Ginny but how on earth was she meant to do that? Her wand didn't even work - her magic didn't work!

But she had to keep going. Harry would have kept going. She wasn't her brother. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to steel her nerves. Would he come and find her? She hoped that he might.

Trying not to fall, Calla forced herself to keep moving. Be smart, she told herself, pulling out her compact mirror. She was really glad now that Daphne had leant it to her last week. She flipped it open, keeping her head down and hoping that she could avoid death by senses and instincts alone. It was a rubbish plan and not a very clever one, and she felt rather foolish now for thinking she could do this by herself. She didn't want Harry to be here and die, but she was scared that she might be the one to die instead if she wasn't careful.

In an attempt at bravery, Calla shuffled forward, peering around a corner nervously. There was nothing but darkness and stone ahead. She crept further along, past a wall covered in slime and what might have been a form of seaweed, if they were close enough to a see. She supposed it came from the loch in the castle grounds, and by the looks of things they were right under it. She tried not to think about the giant squid bursting through the roof.

Then she rounded a corner and fell entirely silent. There was little Ginny Weasley's body, curled up and shaking on the ground. She looked pale, even paler than usual lately, so that her freckles were almost unnoticeable. The breath left Calla and she stood, frozen. She'd gotten this far, now she had to get Ginny out and bring her back safe before Harry could get wind of things and come rushing in.

Cautiously, she made her way around the edge of the giant chamber, keeping into the shadows. She could keep her eye on Ginny this way, and held her mirror out in front of her just in case. When she couldn't see any sign of a snake or of anybody else in the chamber, she gathered what little courage she had and pushed herself across the floor to Ginny, willing her feet to move even as her every rational instinct screamed at her to just run.

She'd just clasped her hand around the top of Ginny's arm when a sharp pain shot through her head. She staggered back, giving a yell of fright. Her feet landed in the spilled water and she slipped, sprawling onto the cold, hard stone floor. Shock rattled through her bones as she tried to heave herself up.

There was a figure coming through the chamber's shadows, pale and wraith-like, as though he were made of smoke. But as he got closer, the figure began to look more solid, and the pain going through Calla's skull intensified. "What do we have here?" the figure said. He bent down at Calla's side and she scrambled away. Her chest felt like it might burst from panic as she moved, struggling up to her feet.

"G-get away," she said meekly, wishing that she could sound just a little bit braver. Every part of her magic seemed to be pulling away from the figure, her muscles tightening from fear.

"Now, now," said the boy, lips curving into a dangerous smile. Every word he spoke made Calla feel more and more tired; she was weighed down by them. "Don't fret, you'll be alright. What's your name?"

Calla got the distinct impression that she shouldn't trust this boy with anything, let alone her own name. But she was too terrified to say anything to him, and kept her lips pressed tight together, staring at the boy until he chuckled. "Alright, alright. How did you find us then?"

Again, she kept quiet. She tightened her grip on her wand and tried looking the boy in the eye. He was handsome but his smile was twisted and it made Calla's stomach churn.

"You won't speak?" The boy still kept smiling. "I see, I see. You're scared."

She wanted to deny it but it was true. And the fight was draining from her already. She went over her bullet points in her head.

Get into the chamber. Find Ginny. Get Ginny out and safe. If possible, find out who's been behind the attacks.

She had done the two now, and she was willing to bet that the strange boy had something to do with the attacks. Except she didn't recognise him, and his uniform wasn't the usual one; it looked older, outdated. There was the Slytherin crest on his robes though, close to confirming her theory.

But that wasn't the priority, even if she so desperately wanted to know.

She moved back to Ginny, ignoring the painful twinge in her forehead, and held her under the arms. She'd underestimated how heavy her little body could be, as she tried to drag her back. Briefly she considered doing a charm to alleviate some of the weight but there was no knowing if it would work at all or even if it might do her some damage.

The boy only watched her in amusement. She didn't suppose it was worth it to ask him for help. Trying to drag Ginny off, Calla took in her surroundings, looking for anything she might be able to use to aid them. But there was only the boy's wand - she couldn't see where Ginny's was - and a small black book lying on the ground.

The diary.

Her stomach plummeted and she almost dropped Ginny in shock. "She won't wake," the boy said casually to her. "It'll do neither of you any good trying to take her away."

She didn't want to believe him. Ginny still had a pulse, however faint. But she kept her eyes trained between him and the diary, a horrid cold feeling creeping its way up her arms. That diary had made her feel awful every time she'd seen it, and had accused Hagrid, and seeing it down here led her to only one conclusion, as horrible and terrifying as it was.

"You're Tom Riddle," she said, voice shaking.

The boy's eyes widened in surprise for a second, then narrowed in suspicion. "And how do you know that?"

"So you are," she said, now feeling quite breathless and more than a little faint. She wanted to ask more questions but now, she had to remind herself, was really not the time for curiosity. She tugged Ginny backwards a bit, though her arms felt little lighter than lead. "Well, nice to meet you."

"Oh, I don't think we're done yet," crooned Tom Riddle. Now his features seemed to be even further twisted, even more distorted and terrifying. She tightened her grip on Ginny and shuffled backwards as fast as she could. "Drop the girl."

Calla was horrified to find that her body tried to obey. She clutched Ginny all the tighter, but it was a harder effort; her fingers were trying to uncurl on their own accord, to let go of Ginny and let her slip out of Calla's grasp. She wouldn't let them; she had to get Ginny to safety.

Tom Riddle was regarding her curiously and Calla didn't like it one bit. "What's your name, girl?" She kept her mouth shut and he tried again, eyes focused intently on her. "What's your name?"

Calla. The word struggled against the tip of her tongue but she kept it shut. Why should she have to tell him?

"You know, most would have given into my charms by now." He smiled. "What makes you so special?"

She tugged Ginny away but the girl was like lead in her arms. With a huff of strength, she panted, trying to keep herself standing even if she was standing on very shaky legs.

"Aren't you going to answer me?" Tom Riddle asked, voice sharper and demanding.

Calla shook her head, trying again to pull Ginny away. But she could feel her own eyes closing, and she just felt so, so heavy, and so, so tired. Fighting to keep awake, she kept moving, as Tom Riddle edged further and further away from her. Still she'd only gotten a few paces away when there was a tremendous crash from behind her, the sound of a yell. The force of it knocked her and Ginny both over, sprawling on the ground. Tom Riddle was standing over her with a malicious, slippery smile.

"Go to sleep, little girl," he said quietly. "Or let my snake send you to sleep."

X

Professor Flitwick hadn't noticed Calla's absence from the common room when he went in to address them all. Hogwarts would be, for the first time in a millennia, closing its doors and the students were going to be sent home. The announcement sent chills through the Ravenclaw Common Room. A girl had been taken into the chamber of secrets, a Gryffindor first year. Ginny Weasley was Daphne's first thought. She and Astoria had had a sort of friendship the beginning of the year that had dwindled away near the end of October as they went their inevitable separate ways in Gryffindor and Slytherin.

But Daphne knew her sister would be terrified for her friend, just as she was terrified for Calla. At first when she slipped off she thought perhaps she'd gone to find Harry and would be back soon, both of them safe and sound. But when she didn't return, her nerves got worse and worse and in the nervous silence of the girls' dormitory, her thoughts fell to dark places.

What if she'd gotten herself hurt? What if she'd been Petrified, or killed, or taken into the chamber right alongside Ginny? Had any of the teachers even noticed? If they had they would have come to find the girls in the dorm, she reasoned, to explain. But no one had come and now all the girls sat up, nervous and shaking, each afraid to say anything.

Surprisingly, it was Isobel who spoke up first. "She'll have gone off with her brother somewhere," she said, pale faced. "They'll be trying to catch the Heir at the last minute, like they saved the stone at the last minute last year." It wasn't reassuring - Calla had almost died last year.

"You don't suppose we ought to go and try helping her?" asked Sue timidly.

"Are you out of your mind?" Lisa asked, staring at Sue. "And get ourselves killed, too? No, no, we can't go after her."

"We can still help her," Padma said fiercely. "We have to be able to, there - there must be a way. I just can't believe she'd be so stupid!"

"No," Daphne said slowly. "She must have had a plan, or some idea of what she was facing. Last year she wanted to know everything she could, and to have a solid idea of who she was facing, didn't she? Calla wouldn't run off without a plan." She hoped she wouldn't anyway. "There has to be some way to get help, right?"

"Her godfather," Padma said suddenly. She looked at Daphne for the first time in weeks. "We can write to him, he'll need to know anyway, but maybe he can help!"

"But how?" Mandy asked impatiently. "We've got a bit of a short timescale here and I doubt any of our owls can fly that fast there and back to save her."

"Besides," Sue put in dejectedly, "none of us can go to the Owlery."

"Of course!" Isobel snapped her fingers, face lighting up. She realised exactly what Daphne did at the same moment. "Her owl never goes to the Owlery, does it, Lisa you're always complaining about it to Calla!" She dashed over to the window, looking quite wild, and thrust it open, making a very strange hooting sound that Daphne supposed was meant to be a bird call. But no owl came over the skyline. Isobel's face fell. She hooted again, but nothing.

"Oh, for goodness' sake," Lisa muttered. "The one time we actually want to see the stupid bloody bird and it-"

Moony swept through the window and landed right beside Lisa on the bed, hooting loudly. She glared at it in what seemed a mix of horror and sheer shock. "And it's on my bed."

"Right," Daphne said, rushing over to the owl. "Padma, pass me parchment and a quill and ink, we've got to be quick. Any ideas where the chamber might be?"

"Myrtle's bathroom," Padma said quickly. Daphne turned to stare at her, surprised. "I was going to say about it the other night, but..." She faltered. "I didn't have the time."

"Right." Daphne averted her gaze, hoping Padma couldn't see the blaze of her cheeks. "Well in that case someone has to try and get down there."

"Hang on," said Isobel, staring between them. "How come you two know so much?"

Daphne knew they had to say something, even if it wasn't everything. They didn't have time for that. But they told the other girls the basics: that they'd been looking for the chamber and the heir, about Harry hearing voices, that Hagrid was expelled last time but it wasn't him, that spiders were scared of the creature, and that Padma believed the chamber to be in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Lisa had laughed at that, but sobered up with a sharp elbow to the side from Isobel.

"Someone has to go down there, then," said Isobel. "It should be you two." She nodded between Padma and Daphne. "You know the most. And someone ought to alert Flitwick or another teacher."

"You and Terry need to stay here," Mandy told Isobel. "You're most at risk from the heir." Isobel didn't look happy about it, but she nodded.

"We'll keep the rest of the house informed," she said. "And try to figure out what could possibly be hiding below a..." Her eyes stared as realisation dawned on her face.

"What?" Daphne asked quickly, leaning forward.

"Bathroom." Her face had gone quite white. "Of course, the voices - Harry's a Parseltongue, isn't he? And the heir of Slytherin and the chamber's under the bathroom and the spiders-"

She promptly flung herself at her own bed, scrambling around in her trunk while the other girls stared. "Someone get out any books we have about beasts - Scamander's books, or something about Greek myths, or snakes, quickly!"

Daphne dove into her own trunk, searching for the book her mother had given her about rare snake breeds (part of her efforts to sway her back towards the Slytherins). She wrenched it open, flicking through so fast she thought that she might tear the pages, and her eyes landed on a page that made her heart stop.

"Basilisk," said Isobel hollowly. "It's a basilisk, Of course, a giant bloody snake, petrifies people by looking them in the eye, and the spiders are scared of it because they have to see it, they have almost three hundred and sixty degree vision." She looked up at Daphne. "Do you think Calla knows what she's doing?"

"I-" Daphne faltered. "I don't know. She has a mirror with her, I gave it to her last week and she forgot to give it back, if she knows it's a basilisk she'll use it to deflect its vision!"

"Right," said Isobel, as each girl hastily scrambled about for their own mirrors. "Here's what we're going to do. If it's under the bathroom it might be in the plumbing, it would be perfect for a snake to get around in. There aren't any other Parselmouths in the school except Harry are there, that we know of?" All the girls shook their heads - even Daphne couldn't name any.

Except... "My mum said the Dark Lord was a Parselmouth."

Five heads snapped around to stare at her. "What?" said Padma lowly. "Him?"

"Well yes. He was a Slytherin and he could speak it and..."

"Bloody hell," whispered Isobel. She was pale; Sue and Mandy had both started shaking. "You don't reckon it's him again, do you?"

"Okay, Izzy, you definitely have to stay inside. Keep everyone armed and away from the sinks and bathrooms, in the main room if you can. Padma and I-" Daphne snuck a nervous glance at the other girl -"will go and try finding Calla. I don't know how to open the chamber," she admitted, thinking she'd have to use Parseltongue, "But we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

"No way!" Lisa said. "You can't go to the entrance and just hang around not knowing how to get in, that's a sure way to be caught off-guard."

"Do you have any better ideas?"

"I do, actually," Lisa said smugly, and raise dher wand. "Serpensortia!" Sue shrieked as a snake came fling out the tip of Lisa's wand, curling around in the middle of the seven beds. "He's not poisonous, don't worry. If you take him with ou he might be able to, I don't know, do some hissing and open the chamber for you."

"There aren't any poisonous snakes," Mandy pointed out. "Only venomous one's."

"Right, he's not venomous then," Lisa muttered. "Point is he won't hurt you."

She nodded and gingerly, Daphne picked up the snake. It was surprisingly calm, and seemed content to wrap around her forearm. It didn't squeeze to tight, so Daphne hoped that meant it wasn't a constrictor or something that would crush her to death.

"We'll get Flitwick," Lisa said, gesturing to her and Mandy. "Sue and Izzy, you wake the boys and the rest of the house and stay inside, yeah? We'll be back as soon as we can. One of you get that letter sent off to Potter's godfather and let him know what's happened."

The six girls nodded at each other. Daphne could see every one of them was just as terrified as she felt. "You know," she said, "this is terribly Gryffindor of us."

"No," Lisa refuted, shaking out her hair with a pout. "Looking after one is looking after them all; saving Calla and stopping the Heir of Slytherin is a strategic, smart, and logical move to help everyone in the long run."

"So you do care," Daphne said with a teasing grin, clapping her hands together. "And with those rousing words of inspiration, we should probably go save our dormmate. Smartly, of course."

X

No one told Harry anything about his sister, but when he saw Daphne and Padma sneaking out of the Ravenclaw Tower on their own with two girls whose names he had failed to learn, he knew something was wrong.

"Ron," he hissed, gesturing to the cluster of four girls. Ron looked up, startled.

"Daphne and Padma," he said cheerfully. "They must- wait, where's Calla?"

They looked at each other, terror gripping Harry. Had something happened? Were they coming to find him - were they trying to find her?

He whipped the cloak off and the brown haired girl beside Daphne shrieked. Daphne clasped a hand over her mouth and made a violent shushing gesture. "Harry," she said. "You've heard?"

The blood rushes from him. No, no, no. "Heard what?"

"Calla's come," Padma said, biting her lip. "She didn't come back to the Tower after History of Magic, she went to find you because you didn't show up and - and we thought she'd be with you, but she's not and-" She broke off with a choked, terrified sob. "We're going to find her and help you lot, Lisa and Mandy are getting Flitwick."

"Hang on, but you're Ravenclaws," Ron said, frowning. "I thought you'd all be shut up, I dunno, trying to solve a riddle or something."

The brunette looked at him in disgust. "Well, that clearly shows you were never destined for our house. We're smart enough to figure out where the creature is, what it is, and we have a plan of action to save our friend. What do you have?"

"Lisa," Padma hissed, stamping on the other girl's toes. "This isn't the time. You're using the cloak?" This she addressed to Harry, who nodded numbly. His sister was gone and no one knew where... He wasn't sure he wanted to even guess. "Come on, you can hide us too for a bit."

"You won't all fit," Harry grumbled, but let the four girls in anyway. It was a tight squeeze, and their ankles were all visible, but it was better than nothing.

"Flitwick's office isn't far," said Daphne, guiding the boys downstairs. "Where were you meant to go, anyway?"

They glanced at each other, then at the two girls they didn't know. The brunette rolled her eyes. "We're not going to tell tales on you, Potter."

"Right." He blinked. "We were going to see Lockhart."

"For help?" Daphne sounded incredulous. "Good luck."

"We'd be helping him," Ron muttered, as they came to a stop outside Flitwick's office. The two Ravenclaws slipped out and the brunette whispered something to Padma, who nodded firmly. The remaining four swept themselves under the cloak and shuffled along through the corridors until they reached Lockhart's office and flung the door open.

Harry's sister was in danger and there was no way he trusted Lockhart with saving her on his own.

X

The chamber was silent when they went down with Lockhart. He'd hoped to at least hear his sister, to know she was there and still alive, but he didn't. There was no sign of her when he first arrived, and that turned his stomach with worry. The whole place was dark, and he couldn't see any sign of Calla anywhere, not even any footprints or tracks.

"We must be miles beneath the school," Daphne said with a trace of wonder in her voice. It echoed around the dark chamber. "I've never even thought of anything like this; all those times I've used Myrtle's bathroom. I wonder what else there is in the school that none of us have found yet."

Harry didn't really want to take the time to consider Daphne's wonder at the chamber when his sister's life was at stake. "Come on," he said, leading the way forward. "Remember, any sign of movement, and close your eyes right away, yeah?" They'd be of no use to Calla and Ginny if they managed to get themselves petrified while they were down here.

The tunnel was almost silent except for the sounds of their feet, moving softly on the stone floor. Then Harry heard it, a soft cry from somewhere deep within the chamber, and the gentle hush of a voice. His heart gave a small, nervous leap of hope and he rushed faster round a bend in the tunnel, only to come to a screeching halt with Ron behind him.

"There's something there," Ron said quietly, voice laced with fear.

Indeed, there was a great, twisting shape along the side of the chamber, like a snake but not moving. Could it be Calla had managed to slay the basilisk all on her own, and already? But if so, then where was she? Harry lit the tip of his wand and heard a soft gasp from behind as the sale came into the light. It looked like a snake, certainly, with poisonous green skin... But there was nothing underneath it.

"It can't be dead, can it?" Padma asked, voice shaking a bit from nerves.

"No," Daphne said. She stepped out from behind the two boys and examined the snake shape. "Its shed its skin, that's all, see. The basilisk must still be alive somewhere down here."

There was a small whimper and Harry turned around, somewhat surprised to see Gilderoy Lockhart there. "Heart of a lion, that one," said Ron. Lockhart's knees gave way and he fell to the floor in fear."

"Oh, get up," Daphne muttered to him with her nose wrinkled in disgust. "Coward."

But to their surprise, Lockhart did leap up to his feet, and Daphne gave a short, surprised gasp as they all stumbled back. Lockhart lunged for Ron, who let out a muffled yell and flailed backwards. Padma reared back as Daphne and Harry tried to pull Lockhart away, but he'd already succeeded in knocking Ron to the ground and was wielding his wand triumphantly in the air.

"Well, it looks like this is the end of the road, children!" Lockhart said, pointing the wand around at them. "I shall take a bit of the snake's skin back up to the school, tell them I was too late to save those two girls, the latter of whom I found only when I came down here, and that at the sight of their mangled bodies, the four of you all lost your minds. Your poor mother will be distraught at the news, but I will tell her how brave you have been, never fear."

It was Daphne who lunged forward, but she didn't have time to stop Lockhart from yelling out, "Obliviate!"

The wand exploded with the force of a small bomb. Daphne was thrown immediately backwards, crying out and landing atop a shrieking Padma. Harry sprinted as far away as he could with Ron, and the two girls following sloppily behind him as rocks began to rain down from the ceiling, blocking their path. He slipped out just in time, but Ron wasn't so lucky. He pulled back just at the right moment, as the rocks thudded into place and sealed them away.

"Ron!" Harry yelled through the rock. "Daphne, Padma! Are you okay?"

There was a short terrifying moment before Ron called out, "We're here! Me and Padma are alright, but the git's knocked himself out and... Well, Daphne's a bit..."

A feeble voice said through the rock, "I'm fine. My head's a bit... Not so good."

"Are you going to be alright?"

A pause and then, "Yeah. Yeah, I think so. Harry, you go on, we'll be okay if we're together. You have to find Calla."

"And Ginny," Ron put in quickly. Harry could hear the panic and worry in their voices; he felt it too in his heart. "We can't get through, though, it'll take ages!"

"You'll have to go on yourself, Harry," Padma said in a worried tone. "I'm sorry but I don't know if we can shift it, especially with Daphne being hurt."

Harry debated with himself for a moment. He didn't want to go on alone, but the longer he waited the longer Calla - and Ginny - were in danger from the basilisk. "You stay with Lockhart, make sure Daphne's alright. I'll - I'll go on. If I'm not back in an hour..."

"We'll come and get you," Padma assured him in an unexpectedly soothing voice. "The girls already wrote to Calla's godfather about what's happening, if it does go so wrong... It - it'll be okay. I'm sure. I promise you."

It didn't fill him with much confidence, but it did help to imagine Uncle Moony there with him, telling him what to do. _Go to your sister,_ he imagined him saying. _Get her out of there, and Ginny too, and be careful. Be smart, Harry. Make your parents and I proud._

"Alright," he said, clutching his wand tightly. "I'll - I'll see you in a bit, then."

He set off down through the dark to the chamber, desperate to get there yet terrified to know what he might find. Would he find his sister, dead or Petrified next to Ginny? Bleeding out from a basilisk wound? He tried those out those thoughts out of his head but it was impossible. The walk seemed to stretch on for miles and he was sure he was running by the time he rounded a bend and saw the chamber unfold before him.

There was Ginny, lifeless on the ground. A figure he didn't recognise standing before a statue of a man who could only be Salazar Slytherin. And his sister, struggling on the ground, pale faced and terrified and looking like she was in pain, but - but she was alive.

He closed his eyes in relief but the moment he opened them wished that he hadn't taken that split second. For now the other figure was standing behind Calla, looking furious, and her shoulders slumped towards the ground.


	35. Ch34 - Tom Marvolo Riddle

Harry took off running down the length of the slippery, black-stoned chamber, robes whirling behind him. "Calla!" he yelled out, stumbling to his sister's side. "Calla, are you-"

"Harry," she whispered, voice hoarse. "It's him. It's Tom-"

"The girl is damaged," said a voice Harry found familiar. He looked up and knew at once what Calla was trying to say. He was staring into the face of Tom Riddle, and it was not kind. It was blurred around the edges and not fully there, but it was certainly him. "She has been hurt."

"Harry-" Calla croaked out, and then choked off, slumping onto the ground. Panic flooded Harry's chest and he grabbed her arm, trying to shake her awake.

"Calla!" he said shakily. "Calla, Calla wake up!"

"She won't wake," said Tom Riddle softly. "Neither of them will."

Harry felt suddenly as though he might be ill. He grasped his sister's arm, trying to wrest her into replying but there was nothing he could do. She didn't wake. "What do you mean?" he asked frantically. "What do you mean she won't wake, she's not-" He broke off, heart clenching. No. No, she was his sister, she couldn't be...

"She's alive," said Tom Riddle faintly. "But she is struggling."

Harry stared at him. Struggling. Then he could still help her, could still get her out of here alive - and Ginny. "How can you be here?" he asked nervously at Riddle's shining form. He was at Hogwarts over fifty years ago yet looked barely older for it. How could he be here? "Are you a ghost?"

Riddle shook his head. "No, not a ghost. A memory. Preserved in a diary for fifty years."

Harry's eyes landed on the small, black book which he had picked up what felt like so, so long ago. The diary that had always affected Calla, had made her feel unwell and her head hurt. "Tom," he began uncertainly, stomach twisting. Did the diary - did Tom - have something to do with why Calla was down here, struggling and hurt. "Tom, you have to help me get them out. That's my sister," he said, pointing at Calla, and Tom Riddle looked at him in something unsettlingly akin to amusement. He grasped Calla's arms, trying to lift her. "We have to get them out of here, both of them, there's a Basilisk... I'm not sure where it is, but it could be along at any moment, we have to help them."

But Tom did not move to help. Desperately, Harry tried to pull Calla up, hold her against him so that he could get away, but she was a lot heavier than he had thought she'd be. "Tom - Tom-" He moved to pick up his wand from the floor but it was gone, and there was no sign of Calla's wand either. "Have you seen-"

He looked up to see Tom Riddle fiddling with Harry's wand between two fingers, with Calla's resting just inside the pocket of his robes. He was about to reach out and thank Tom, but something nervous settled in the pit of his stomach. Why was Calla's wand in his pocket? Slowly, he said, "Give me my wand, Tom." He didn't. "Tom - my wand... Look, listen, we have to get them out of here, we have to go! If the Basilisk-"

"It won't come until it's called," said Tom in an eerily calm voice.

Harry thought his arms were about to give out from holding Calla so long, but he had to keep her in his arms. He couldn't let go because he had to get her away. "What do you mean?" Harry asked frantically. "And give me my wand, and Calla's, I might need mine!"

But Riddle's smile only grew, and Harry felt Calla shudder in his arms. "You won't be needing it," Tom said assuredly.

Harry stared. "What do you mean, I won't be needing it?"

At that moment, Calla gave a great shudder and nearly fell out of his arms - Harry just barely caught her in time before she smacked onto the ground. "I have waited a long time for this, Harry Potter," Riddle said. "For the chance to speak to you. To _see_ you."

"Look," Harry said impatiently, trying to get ahold of Calla again. "I don't think you get it; we're in the Chamber of Secrets. We can talk later."

"We can talk now," Riddle said, still smiling, as he dropped Harry's wand into his robes pocket beside Calla's.

A sense of dread washed over Harry then. There was something very funny going on, and he knew that he had to get Calla out of here - and Ginny, he had to remind himself - as soon as he possibly could.

"How did this happen?" he asked slowly. "How did Calla and Ginny get like this?"

X

All that Calla could feel was pain. It started in her forehead, behind her scar, but it snuck its way through her blood too, coursing all the way through her veins and throughout her body, like it was attempting to burn her from the inside out. When Riddle looked at her, the pain got stronger, and when her eyes fell on the diary again it felt like her body was trying to destroy itself.

When she met the eyes of Tom Riddle, it was like every feeling in her body suddenly left her. And sudden weakness spilt over her, all of her strength falling away from her shoulders in waves. She tried to cast a spell, even if it was only expelliarmus, but nothing would come. Tom Riddle only smiled at her. She knew something was wrong, and that it was worse even than she'd thought before. He was forcing the strength out of her and perhaps he had been all year, because wasn't that what happened when she got near the diary? Pain and then weakness, and her magic slowly dwindling away. And her scar; the scar that she'd been given all those years ago when Lord Voldemort murdered her family, that had first hurt when she saw him in the forest trying to sustain himself, and that had given her her first vision. Visions like the ones she'd been having all year.

She forced herself to meet his eyes, to struggle upright even as her own body tried to force her down. ""Why's Ginny like this?" she managed to ask. "Why - how did this happen? Why am I like this?"

Tom Riddle looked confused for a moment, perhaps bewildered. "And what are you like?"

"Hurt and weak. I'm in pain, but you're not... You're not real." He blinked in surprise. "You're a bit like a ghost but not."

He looked contemplative for a long moment, before finally, he spoke. "I am a memory," he told her. "Preserved in a diary for fifty years."

Fifty years. Her head spun with questions, but there was the most monstrous of all: where was Voldemort fifty years ago? It was hard to reconcile this boy with the monster she always imagined in her nightmares, and maybe she was thinking too far-fetched, delirious from fear and pain, but could it be possible? "And - and what do you know... Of-" She broke off, the name like poison on her tongue. With a jolting shock, she realised that she simply couldn't speak it. Tom Riddle looked at her with a curious sort of amusement. "What happened to Ginny?" she asked instead, dreading the answer.

"That's a very good question," said Tom Riddle, looking down at her pale form. "Miss-" She shook her head. "Very well. It is rather a long story, I suppose, but what happened to little Ginny Weasley, is that she felt lonely and she spilled all of her secrets into a diary. My diary." It sent a chill through Calla. "Little Ginny's been writing in it for months now, spilling all her secrets. How she worried what her classmates would think of her, how she's teased by all her brothers, how she had to come to school with everything second hand, and how she didn't think the famous, good, great Harry Potter would ever like her." At the sound of her brother's name, Calla gave a noticeable shudder, drawing Riddle's keen eyes. "Does that name mean something to you?"

"That name means something to everyone," Calla said cautiously. "What does it mean to you?"

He ignored her question. "It's very boring, you know, having to listen to all the troubles of an eleven year old girl. But I was patient with her. I wrote back, I was sympathetic to her, I was kind. She thought I understood her." He let out a high cold laugh that was too familiar to Calla. She tried to get to her feet, her desperation to escape the chamber suddenly renewed. "Though I do say so myself, I have always had a talent for charming the people that I need to charm. And so little Ginny spilled her soul to me, all her worries, all her dreams, and I grew stronger from that, feeding on her deepest fears and darkest secrets, and I became increasingly powerful. Soon I was powerful enough to start pouring a little bit of my soul back into Ginny, telling her just a few of my own secrets."

His own secrets. "It was you, wasn't it?" she asked, mouth dry. "You told Harry it was Hagrid who opened the chamber of secrets all of those years ago but it was you all along, you - you lied! And the diary, you - it was you! That's why my scar, and you - you were a Slytherin, and Parseltongue - of course!" And she stared up at him then, horror crushing against her chest and she felt more terrified than she'd ever been. "You're him... You're Lord V-" She broke off. Harry would have said the name but she couldn't. Tom Riddle smiled coldly. "You're... You're Vol-Voldemort." She tried not to let out her own squeak of terror as she let the name fall from her tongue,

Tom Riddle's eyes glinted cruelly. "Aren't you a smart one?" he asked with a mocking smile.

"And Ginny? You - you've been using her, haven't you? Someone would have noticed you wandering the castle, Dumbledore would have known, and you..." Her head hurt. "You weren't strong enough yet, were you, to do it on your own? You needed someone else to do it for you, to open the chamber!" But Ginny wouldn't have done it on her own, if she'd had a choice. "What did you do? Did you - I don't know, possess her?"

Riddle gave her a curious look. "If that's what you wish to believe. I think possess is, perhaps, a rather cruel word." She thought that it was a rather cruel act, personally. "She didn't know what she was doing at first, of course. You should have seen her new diary entries, how worried she became, how scared of herself. She became too scared, eventually, and suspicious of her friendly diary. She tried to dispose of it, but then... Well, that's where Harry Potter came in. You sounded like you know him. Did he tell you what he saw?"

"Bits of it," Calla admitted.

"And why would he tell you? I can see you're not in his house..." His gaze roamed over her and eventually it fell upon her scar by her hairline, shaped like an S. "Or perhaps you're the little sister. Yes, Ginny told me about Calla Potter, too, the girl who was to Harry Potter what she wanted to be to Ron Weasley. She told me how brilliant they were, how Harry Potter and his sister survived the might of Lord Voldemort as children, and Harry Potter became the boy-who-lived and the first person to ever survive a Killing Curse. And she told me how they did it again last year, how Harry Potter faced off against Lord Voldemort once again and how his sister survived a fire designed to kill anyone who went through it unaided. Tell me, how did you do it?"

His eyes roamed over her face hungrily and Calla found herself shuddering away from him. "I don't know," she said quietly, looking up at him. "And if I did I wouldn't tell you anyway."

"No?"

"No." Calla glared at him with what courage she had. "I wouldn't."

"Interesting. I did wonder, when you came down here... I could feel you, Calla Potter. I could feel your magic." She shuddered. "What was it, Calla Potter? A careful spell, a charm of protection, perhaps?" She stayed silent and unmoving, lips pressed tightly together. "Was it the same magic that protected you and your brother that night, protecting you yet again? And still, I wonder..."

It was like a dead weight settled upon Calla's chest, pushing against her ribs. That familiar sensation of shivering quite unexpectedly, without intention to do so, and she could feel the ends of her fingers going cold. Tom Riddle wore a cruel, curious smirk. "Interesting..."

The she heard a crash like the roof caving in far away, a cry that sounded terrifyingly like her brother, and she was pushed down back to the ground, her whole body going cold and shaking.

Xx

"So, I suppose," said Tom Riddle to a horrified, terrified Harry. "Ginny got like this because she invested too much of herself into a diary that spoke back, and your sister got like this because she invested too much of herself... Into you."

Maybe he knew that those words in particular would be a blow to Harry. If Calla had come down here because of him, because she thought - or even saw - that he would come running down anyway to save Ginny, and if she died as she seemed to be doing, because of him, then he would never be able to forgive himself.

"So you're Voldemort," Harry said slowly, hardly believing it. Yet he could, somehow. Calla had seen it of course, she'd worked it out. And now she was dying because of it.

Yes," Tom said with a cold smile. "It was a name that I was already using amongst some of my closest peers while I was at Hogwarts, though only to my most intimate of friends. I could hardly go on using the name of my muggle father, could I? I, in whose blood runs the green blood of the great Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother's side? I keep the name of a foul muggle who abandoned me and my mother before I was even born, all because he discovered that my mother was a witch? No, Harry Potter, I would not. And so I fashioned myself a new name, a name that I knew would one day strike fear into the hearts of those weaker than me - those like your little sister - and that was fit for the greatest sorcerer in the world!"

Perhaps if things were different he might have stalled for time against the Basilisk to form a plan, perhaps he would have argued when Tom Riddle proclaimed himself the greatest sorcerer in the world and perhaps he might have jumped immediately to defend Dumbledore. But all he could think of was is sister, shaking, cold and pale in his arms, who had been terrified the whole time she was down here and who was dying slowly. And he could barely find the words to speak. "She's not weak," he said at last, words laced with hatred. "Nor were our parents. And - and you're not the greatest sorcerer in the world. You're a leech."

He grasped Calla upright and she turned in his arms. At those words, Riddle had seemed to take a blow and Calla shuddered, dropping to her knees as her eyes snapped open, looking haunted and terrified. "Harry," she whispered, pushing him back so that he stumbled. She got to her feet. "Run."

"But you and Ginny-"

Tom Riddle had lunged for Calla and she ducked out of the way just in time. "You! Run!"

"I'm not leaving-"

"Stop being an idiot and run, Harry!"

Tom Riddle laughed. "Let us see what the might of Salazar Slytherin can do against the two Potter children, shall we?"

To Harry's surprise, Riddle walked away, turning to the Great statue of Slytherin at the wall. Calla was running to Ginny, trying to drag her back. "Get her out," she panted.

"I can't," Harry said. "The - the passage is blocked up."

"What do you mean it's-"

"I'll explain later," Harry said, just as Riddle began to speak.

Speak to me Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four.

Calla was still trying to get Ginny out, but Harry was transfixed by the sight of Slytherin's giant stone mouth, moving. His mouth opened, growing wide and exposing a great, gaping black hole. "Cal," he said shakily, as his sister dropped Ginny. Something stirred from deep within the mouth of the statue, slithering out from inside out in a great green coil.

"Don't look," she told him, squeezing her own eyes shut. They both backed against the chamber wall, hearts shuddering.

Harry could hear something hit the chamber's stone floor, huge. He could almost sense the great serpent unwinding itself from Salazar Slytherin's gaping mouth and dropping onto the ground, slithering across the stone. Then came Riddle's voice in a hiss, Kill them.

He could hear the Basilisk slither towards him across the floor. He wanted to look but that would kill him. "To the left," Calla hissed to him, and yanked him to the side. Harry smothered his yelp, leaving his other arm free to feel his way around the chamber. But Calla seemed to know what she was doing, somehow, and he didn't so much as stumble even though he was sure they were going to fall.

"We have to blind it," Calla muttered to him in a low voice. "But I've no idea how." There was a moment's pause and then, "Stay here. Eyes shut."

She dropped his hand and darted off somewhere. He cracked his eyes open the tiny bit to see Calla fumbling her way into the centre of the chamber, looking pale and terrified. "R-Riddle?"

The figure of Riddle turned in surprise and the Basilisk faltered for a second. Calla's grin flickered triumphant then turned to an expression of terror. "Its - it's true what my brother said. You're not the greatest sorcerer in the world." Riddle's cold smile faltered. "You - you might want to be but you - you're not! Dumbledore is!"

"Dumbledore's been driven from this castle by the mere memory of me!" The Basilisk had stilled somehow, its master distracted.

"He's still ten times greater than you are!" yelled Calla. "And his memory is still with the school, far more than yours is!" She looked up around the chamber, as though looking for something, and Riddle seized that moment to regain control over the Basilisk. It moved and Harry squeezed his eyes shut just as music floated in through the chamber. He could hear Calla's feet rushing back to him across the water, and she grabbed his hand to pull him down just as something slammed into the wall behind them.

"Help," She panted, "will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it. Dumbledore said he was still here as long as we were loyal to him, didn't he, that's what he said when he had to leave, and I swear he looked at us - well, at you, I imagine he knew what you'd end up running off to do, and there!" He could tell she was grinning. "I don't know what he's doing, but-"

They were cut off by a great squawk from not too far away. Harry's eyes snapped open just so that he could see the Basilisk, with its monstrous head swaying in the air between the snake-coiled pillars. Harry trembled and clasped Calla's hand, keepin her head down in case it turned, but then something caught his eye. A red and gold plumed bird, flappin in the air around the Basilisk's head. "Fawkes," he whispered. "Cal, Calla, he's sent us Fawkes!"

Xx

Riddle was spitting in Parseltongue, words that Calla couldn't understand. She looked up at Harry quizzically, and the split second gave the Basilisk just enough advantage to snap its tail around. It caught her knees and she buckled, stumbling into Harry. "We have to kill it!" she shrieked at him.

"How do you kill a Basilisk?"

"I don't know!" Calla said, panting. "I thought it was a gorgon - oh!" She stared at him. "Pipes! Keep Fawkes distracting it - you stay here!"

She darted off back the way that they'd came, to the wall that had been knocked against. There was a mound of broken stones, but in the distance a bit further she could see water hissing and spitting from a burst pipe. With a final, nervous look at her brother who was watching her in terror, she crawled into the gap between the wall and the pipe, dodging the spray of water as best she could. Drawing the Basilisk into the pipes would not be good for the rest of School, so she'd have to avoid that, but the pipes were metal. She just needed something to clean them, and some way to stop the entire plumbing system from crashing down on itself when she tore a plate of metal from the pipes.

But something was crawling into the small tunnel just behind her. She whirled around to see Harry. "What are you doing?"

"Perseus killed Medusa with her own reflection, yeah. All the victims saw the Basilisk's reflection, but presumably it didn't see its own? Mrs Norris with the water, Justin with Nick, Hermione and Penelopewith the mirror, Colin and the camera! Well, if we can get something big enough to hide behind as a shield and if it's metal and shows the Basilisk's reflection then when it looks at it then it could end up reflecting the effect and killing it instead." She looked at him frantically. "Where's your wand?"

"R-Riddle has it."

"Shit," she muttered, and winced at the horrified expression on her brother's face. "Okay." The Basilisk gave a horrifying screech from within the chamber and Harry ducked out.

"I'll get it!" He yelled, as Calla tried to think how best to go about this. It was a very fragile plan, she realised. There were a hundred ways for it to go wrong, and they probably would, in fairness.

She peered at the hole from which the water was trickling, near the bottom of the pipe. Nervously, and hoping it wouldn't draw too much of the Basilisk's attention, she hit the top of the pipe. It sounded hollow, but if she rapped on the bottom it sounded very different. Perhaps the water was shallow? But still, how could she get the metal away?

"Uh, Calla," Harry said, at her side again. "The Basilisk's been blinded."

She let out a groan. Now what? If the Basilisk was blind then it couldn't hurt them, but it couldn't hurt itself, either. She'd have to think of another plan and quickly, because she could hear the Basilisk getting more and more frustrated and though she couldn't make out what he was saying, Tom Riddle was doing some very angry hissing further inside the chamber.

"Right," she said, turning to her brother. "We need something sharp - like a sword?"

He shook his head. "All we have is Fawkes."

She groaned, and Harry was about to duck out when she grabbed his arm. "Did you get your wand?" He shook his head.

"How am I meant to get my wand?"

"I don't know!" Calla squeezed her eyes shut. It was all going wrong, all so horribly, horribly wrong. She tried to clear her mind to invite a vision in but nothing was coming and no one was helping and Dumbledore hadn't sent a sword but only a phoenix and she was sure that it was only a matter of time before the chamber fell down around their heads.

"You - how did you even get down here?" she asked miserably. "This wasn't supposed to happen... I was meant to save Ginny before you had a chance to - to-"

She broke off in terror and Harry reached out a nervous hand to pat her shoulder. "Daphne and Padma told us you hadn't come back after History of Magic while we were going to find Lockhart-"

"Who's we?" she asked abruptly, a seed of hope planted. He hadn't mentioned he'd had someone else with him - but of course Ron wouldn't let Harry go off on his own, and he'd want to save Ginny, too? But where was he and where was Lockhart?

The Basilisk slammed into the wall again and Calla could hear footsteps. She gave a shudder. "Ron and me. He's down here but the - the chamber caved in on the rest of them and Daphne and Lockhart both got hurt!"

"Daphne's here?" Calla asked breathlessly. "Is Padma?"

He nodded. "Yes, but I don't think they can get through!"

But her mind was going quickly. They might not be able to get through, but their wands were considerably smaller than they were. That'd be something of a weapon, and Calla was sure there had to be a spell to use like a sword.

Diffindo, she thought. They used it to slice ingredients sometimes in Potions and Herbology. Maybe...

"I'm going to get their wands," she whispered to Harry. "Stay here."

"You can't run out on your own," Harry said back sharply. "Calla, you'll get yourself killed!"

She knew he was probably right. She didn't really want to think about that possibility, for fear that she'd end up backing out and scare herself into hiding instead of helping. "It's the only way I can think of," she said weakly.

Harry looked like he was about to protest, but he was just as lost as she was. "I'll cover for you," he said.

"Harry, no, you'll-"

"Pretend you're running like you're scared," he said. "I'll keep Riddle distracted long enough for you to get back." He squeezed her hand. "I'll be fine."

She couldn't believe his words but this wasn't the one to debate. The Basilisk seemed to have cottoned on to where they were and there was a crash as it smashed into the side of the chamber wall where their tiny passage was. "I'll be quick," she said and, trying to muster all her courage and look at the same time the most terrified she'd ever been, she ran from the passage with Harry on her heels and raced back along the length of the chamber.

She could feel herself weakening the moment she was back within Riddle's line of sight but somehow it made her run faster and she whirled around the corner, to where rocks were shifting very slowly at an apparent cave in. There was a gap in the rockfall, through which she could see half of Ron's pale and freckled face. "Ron!" she called out, nearing the gap.

"Calla?" came Padma's incredulous voice. "You're okay!" There was a faint cheer from behind the rocks that sounded rather like Daphne. "Where's Harry?"

"And Ginny?" asked Ron hopefully.

"We've got her," Calla said as confidently as she could manage. "Look, there's the basilisk and it's controlled by Riddle - Tom Riddle. I don't have much time but he has our wands and we can't fight. Do you have yours with you? Or do you have something sharp?"

Ron started off, "Mine-" but was interrupted by a shout from Harry in the chamber. It was a shout of pain and she recognised it, stomach plummeting. No, no, no. Had he been hurt, trying to cover for her?

Two wands thrust themselves out of the gap in the rock. Calla blinked. There was Padma's, a smooth oak with a curved handle inlaid with little whirls, and Daphne's a light grey birch with flowers carved along the end of the handle and one large one right at the end. And then, a flurry of muttering, and Daphne's ornate gold handmirror was pushed through too. It was smashed into shards, and Calla was careful not to cut herself on the jagged silver edges. "Go quickly," Padma's voice told her. "Be careful!"

Calla nodded, through she felt entirely ill. With a quick muttered, "Thanks," she took the two wands, and the mirror, turned and ran back up the length of the passage towards the chamber door. It was still ajar and she barrelled through in time to see her brother on the ground, clutching his arm, with Riddle leering over him. Her heart pounded. The basilisk's fangs. Of course. Fawkes was resting on Harry's shoulder, head bent low. The basilisk was curled around Riddle's legs, watching as the blood and strength drained from Harry. She had to do something, she thought, but she was terrified, and her legs shook so much she wasn't sure if she could even walk.

Tentatively, and quietly, she crept her way towards Riddle, Harry and the basilisk. "You're dead, Harry Potter," said Tom Riddle. "Dead. Even Dumbledore's bird knows it. Look at him, he's crying." Calla's gut clenched as she tiptoed closer. "I'm going to stay here and watch you die, Harry Potter," Tom Riddle said. "Take your time - I'm certainly in no hurry. So ends the famous Harry Potter, forsaken by his friends and abandoned by his sister, defeated at last by the Dark Lord whom he so unwisely defied. You'll be back with your dear Mudblood mother soon..." Calla was a few paces away from the basilisk, trembling both from fear but now also from fury. "She bought you twelve years of borrowed time, but I'm afraid that time is now up. Lord Voldemort got you in the end, you see, as surely he must."

Then Calla saw what she must do. Harry's eyes met hers for half a second and she grabbed ahold of the largest sharp shard of glass and, just as Riddle and the basilisk twisted, she drove the sharp point of the shard into the basilisk's neck.

She hadn't expected it to work, but it seemed the basilisk's skin was vulnerable and soft, easy to stab through. It let out a low, choked hiss. Riddle lunged for her and she ducked out of the way, narrowly passing under the basilisk which was starting to spill with blood, deep red against the poisonous green. "You," Riddle snarled.

She rolled under the basilisk and came to near Harry's side, glaring at Riddle. Adrenaline flooded her veins. "Me," she said defiantly, heart faint and fluttering.

"I'm surprised you had that in you," he said. "Miss Potter." The adrenaline died abruptly, replaced by cold and fear. "But it is of little consequence." A cold snarl crossed his features. "I can still kill you myself."

He raised his wand and Calla gave a sharp cry, whirling out Daphne's wand and yelling the only spell she could think of: "Expelliarmus!"

But nothing happened. Then there was a sharp, piercing scream as both heads whipped around to see Harry, sitting with the diary in his lap, stabbed through with the same fang that had been in his own arm. Ink spurted out of the diary, coating Harry's hands, and Riddle was writhing and screaming, body growing fainter as the spell finally burst from Calla, bright red, and then fizzled out into the nothing as Riddle's form evaporated. She stared at the spot where it had been, transfixed and half horrified. But warmth started to trickle back into her veins and eventually she got the strength to move, gaping at the wide, sizzling hole that the basilisk fang had burned through the diary. Ink dripped from it steadily, like blood.

Harry was visibly shaking as he gathered himself to his feet, reaching out to Calla's hand. He gathered from the floor two wands, one of which she held out to Calla - her wand. "Thank you," she whispered, and then without warning, threw herself at her brother, sagging in relief. "I thought you were going to die," she gasped, holding him as tight as she could.

"So did I," he admitted. "But we're okay! We're both okay!"

Fat tears were rolling down Calla's cheeks. "Yeah," she said shakily, though she wasn't entirely sure that she believed it. "We - we're okay."

There a low moan from the end of the chamber, and Calla pulled away from her brother to see little Ginny, stirring on the floor. They both broke out into a run, rushing towards her side as she sat up. Her eyes trailed over the chamber, the dead and bleeding basilisk, Harry's bloodied robes, Calla's terrified face, and the diary that was still clutched in Harry's hand. She gasped, shuddering, and burst into tears.

"Harry," she wailed. "Oh, Harry - Harry, I tried to tell you at b-breakfast, but I was so - so scared, and P-Percy, I c-couldn't say it in front of Percy. It was me," she said, gasping, "but I - I didn't mean to, I swear. R-Riddle made me, he t-took me over - and - and how did you kill th-that thing? W-where's Riddle? The last thing I remember is him c-coming out of the diary-"

"it's alright," Calla said as gently as she could, sweeping Ginny's hair from her face. "He's gone now, see. We're all going to be alright."

"Yeah, see?" Harry said, holding up the still-sizzling diary. "Riddle's finished, him and the basilisk! Come on, Ginny, let's get out of here."

Calla and Harry helped her awkwardly to her feet, though she was still shaking heavily and very white. "I'm going to be expelled!" she wailed. "I've been looking forward to coming to Hogwarts ever since Bill came and now - now I'll have to leave! What about Mum and Dad, what'll they say?"

"It'll be alright," Calla said soothingly, wrapping an arm around Ginny's trembling shoulders.

The way back out the chamber seemed to last forever between the three of them, shaking and leaning on each other. They passed through the open door and it shut behind them with a serpentine hiss. After a few minutes, heading up the dark passageway, Calla could hear the sound of slowly shifting rock.

"That's them," she said, in relief.

"Ron!" yelled Harry, hastening his steps. "Ron, we've got Ginny, she's alright!"

There was strangled cheer from Ron as they rounded the corner and saw a greater gap in the wall, through which they could see Ron poking his head out.

"Ginny!" Ron cheered. He reached out a hand, as did Padma, to pull her through first. "You're alive! I don't believe it! What happened?"

He tried to hug her but Ginny pulled back, sobbing, "But you're okay, Ginny!" said Ron, beaming. "It's over now - where'd you get the bird?"

Fawkes had just swooped past Calla to follow Ginny through the gap in the rock. "He's Dumbledore's," Harry said. "Calla, you go through."

She squeezed herself through the narrow gap, coming out the other side. Padma rushed towards her in a hug, followed by a rather shaky Daphne. "Are you okay?" she asked Daphne, who laughed weakly.

"I think I should be asking you. What happened, we were all so worried about you!"

"Where's Lockhart?" Harry asked abruptly, looking around.

Padma pulled back with a look to Calla that said she would be telling them everything the moment she could.

"He's still back there," said Daphne grimly.

"He's in a bad way," Ron told them with a grin. "Come and see."

Fawkes led them through, his gorgeous wings glowing red and golden to provide them some light. Calla stayed up the front with him, marvelling at the gorgeous shift of colours now that she had the time and the calm to really appreciate the phoenix. Lockhart sat at the mouth of the pipe Calla had come down, humming placidly to himself and smiling quite contentedly.

"His memory's gone," Ron explained. "The memory charm - he tried to obliviate the four of us - backfired and it hit him instead of us. He hasn't got a clue who he is, or where he is, or who we are. I told him to wait here, once we'd gotten Daphne to her feet."

"I got hit by a bit of rock," Daphne explained, showing Calla her arm, which was already turning purple at the edges. "But I'm okay - unlike him."

"Hello," Lockhart said placidly, looking around at them all. "Odd sort of place, this, isn't it? Do you live here?"

"No," Padma said crisply. She turned to Calla. "Any thoughts on how to get back up the pipe?"

Calla shook her head, but Fawkes had already swooped past them, and was fluttering his golden tail feathers before Calla. "I think he wants you to grab on," Ron said. Calla's stomach flipped. Fly? She knew phoenixes were strong but she wasn't certain he could take all of them. And she really, really didn't want to fly.

"We've got to keep a hold of each other," Harry said, offering his hand to Calla, who took it nervously. "Ginny, grab Ron's hand. Ron grab Calla's other hand. Padma get a hold of Ginny, Daphne grab Padma's free hand and Professor Lockhart-"

"He means you," Ron said to a bemused Lockhart.

"Take a hold of Daphne's hand."

They all linked up, Calla between Harry and Ron, and finally Harry took a hold of Fawkes' tail feathers. Before Calla could think to gather herself, they were shooting up through the pipe. She squeezed her eyes shut in terror, though it only made the swooping in her stomach feel worse. It felt like hours before they hit the floor of Myrtle's bathroom, and the sink sliding back into place behind them.

Calla creaked her eyes open to see Myrtle goggling at them. "You're alive," she said blankly.

"You don't have to sound so disappointed," said Harry. He was wiping grime off of his glasses.

"Oh, well," Myrtle said airily, swooping closer, "I'd just been thinking. If you'd have died you would have been more than welcome to share my toilet."

"That's disgusting," Daphne muttered as they left the bathroom, to Ron and Calla's rapt agreement.

"Harry!" Ron said. "I think Myrtle might be fond of you now. Looks like you've got competition, Ginny."

But when Calla looked at Ginny she was not smiling, but crying. She tried to give her a comforting smile, but it didn't seem to work at all.

"Where now?" Ron asked, looking to Harry.

But Harry just pointed to Fawkes, glowing golden and leading the way along the corridor. They followed quickly and moments later found themselves at the door to McGonagall's office, where Calla could already hear familiar voices. Harry glanced at her, and she gave him an encouraging nod. He knocked and pushed the office door open.


	36. Ch35 - The Aftermath

For a brief few moments, as the lot of them stood in the doorway, dripping mud and slime, there was silence. A cluster of adults stood around the desk: Mr and Mrs Weasley, Uncle Moony, McGonagall, Flitwick, and Dumbledore, who seemed to have returned just in time. Lisa and Mandy were there too, Calla was shocked to see, both of them huddled in the corner in their dressing gowns. Calla stared at them, wondering what would be said, until Mrs Weasley broke the silence with a shriek.

"Ginny!"

She rushed forward to embrace Ginny, arms wrapping tightly around her. Uncle Moony rushes over a moment later, pulling Calla and Harry into a crushing hug. "I can't believe you did something like this _again_ ," he said in a thick voice. "I thought you were dead from the letter I got!"

"What letter?" Calla asked, just as he released them. She couldn't hear his answer, as Mrs Weasley pulled her and Harry into a hug too, along with Ron, Padma and Daphne. She wasn't sure how she managed it.

"You saved her!" she cried. "Oh, thank you, thank you! How did you do it?"

"I think we'd all like to know that," said McGonagall weakly as Mrs Weasley released them.

Uncle Moony was hovering by Harry and Calla, looking nervous now but relieved to see they were alright. Calla tried to give him a reassuring smile. All the adults in the room looked at them expectantly, waiting for an answer, and it fell to Harry to place the Basilisk fang and the diary on McGonagall's desk, and start speaking.

It took about half an hour while he stumbled over his words. How he'd heard the voice in the pipes on Halloween, the voice no one else could hear - not even Calla. How Calla had had visions of the attacks, and how they had all followed the trail of spiders to Aragog in the forest.

Calla interjected nervously about how she'd thought it to be a gorgon, but that it was a Basilisk instead, which made a lot more sense. Then Harry continued on about how they'd figured out it was Myrtle who had been killed, and that it was her bathroom where the entrance to the chamber lay and that he'd spoken Parseltongue to get in.

He'd looked to her expectantly then, and Calla floundered. "I had to conjure a snake," she admitted. "I saw Draco Malfoy use it at the Duelling Club, and I didn't know it would work, I didn't think it would at all, because my magic's been acting up recently and I... Well, it worked anyway. And it was weird, it was like because I really wanted the snake to open the chamber by hissing, I managed to make it open it for me." She was aware of Dumbledore's gaze on her, curious in a very unnerving sort of way.

She explained how she had had her vision of Harry and needed to stop it, feeling increasingly under scrutiny. She'd been reckless, she knew. But she couldn't wait and just let it happen and see her brother bleed out.

Harry explained what had happened when they got down there, about how it was Tom Riddle all along, and his memory. Calla told them how she'd rushed down, how she'd felt so weak when Riddle got stronger. She left out about Ginny and the diary deliberately, sure somehow that it was not her place to bring it up; she told them how she'd stabbed the Basilisk with a shard of Daphne's broken mirror and how Fawkes had blinded it.

When they were finished their story, there was another thick, almost stifling silence around them. Uncle Moony squeezed her shoulder encouragingly.

They hadn't mentioned the diary or Ginny at all, and Calla waited nervously for someone to ask. Ginny was still huddled between her mother and father, fat tears falling down her red cheeks. They wouldn't expel her, would they? But Riddle's diary didn't work anymore and they couldn't use it as evidence, to prove that he'd been making her do everything and that she didn't want to hurt anyone.

But then Dumbledore spoke, smiling faintly. "What interests me the most," he said gently, "is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny, when my sources tell me he is currently in hiding in the forests of Albania."

Sources? Calla glanced at Harry, who seemed only relieved. What sources did Dumbledore have in Albania?

"W-What's that?" asked Mr Weasley, his voice sounding stunned. "You Know Who? Enchant... Enchant Ginny? But Ginny's not... Ginny hasn't been... Has she?"

"It was the diary," Harry said quickly, and Calla nodded in rapid agreement. Her brother picked it up, to show it to Dumbledore. "Riddle wrote it when he was sixteen."

Dumbledore took the diary from Harry and looked keenly down his long and crooked nose, at its burnt and soggy pages. Calla bit her lip nervously.

"Brilliant," he said softly. "Of course, he was probably one of the most brilliant students that Hogwarts has ever seen."

The Weasleys were looking entirely bewildered, as was Uncle Moony. Lisa and Mandy both shivered in their corner of the office, and Calla felt her stomach twist tightly.

"Very few people know that Lord Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle," Dumbledore went on, sounding altogether far too calm to deliver that sort of information. "I taught him myself, fifty years ago, when he was at Hogwarts. He disappeared after leaving the school... travelled far and wide and sank so deeply into the Dark Arts, consorting with the very worst of our kind, underwent so many dangerous, magical transformations, that when he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, he was barely recognisable."

"What kind of magical transformations?" Calla found herself asking. All eyes in the room swivelled around to her, including Harry, who looked rather shocked that she'd spoken. "Sorry, Professor, it's just... When I was in the chamber, and - and when I was near the diary it... I think it might have interfered with my magic. I felt... Weak, and it's been haywire all year." She glanced at Padma and Daphne, who were looking as though were trying to put everything together and the puzzle pieces were tumbling down into place. "We thought it might be my wand but in the chamber, nothing I did would work and I could feel Riddle draining me. Do you think... Do you think it might have been one of those, I don't know, magical transformations, having an effect on me?"

Dumbledore considered her for a long, long time. "It is impossible to know these things for certain," he said slowly. "Perhaps it did, though I cannot know how. The boy Tom Riddle kept many secrets, and Lord Voldemort kept many more."

"But - but Ginny," Mrs Weasley was spluttering. Calla only looked at Dumbledore, somehow having even more questions. "How did Ginny - our Ginny! - what she got to do with - with him?"

"The d-diary!" Ginny sobbed, shoulders shaking. "I've b-been writing in it, and he's been -wwriting back all year!"

"Ginny!" exclaimed Mr Weasley, flabbergasted. "Haven't we taught you anything? What did I always tell you? Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain. Why didn't you show us the diary right away to me, or to your mother? A suspicious object like that, it was clearly full of dark magic!"

"I d-didn't know!" Ginny sobbed. "I found it inside one of the books Mum got me. I th-thought someone had just left it in there and forgotten about it."

"Miss Weasley ought to go up to the Hospital Wing right away," Dumbledore interrupted, in a firm voice. "This has no doubt been a terrible ordeal for her. There will be no punishment." Calla breathed a sigh of relief. "Older and wiser wizards than she have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort." He stride over to the door and opened it. "Miss Turpin and Miss Brocklehurst, I think, also ought to return to their dormitories, as they seem rather cold."

Lisa and Mandy hurried from the office with nervous glanced at Calla. No doubt everyone in Ravenclaw would know what had happened by the time she, Daphne and Padma returned.

"Bed rest," Dumbledore said, looking at Ginny. "And plenty of hot chocolate, a nice, large steaming mug of the stuff. I always find that cheers me up," he added, with his eyes twinkling down gently at her. "You will find that Madam Pomfrey is still awake. She's giving out mandrake juice - I dare say the Basilisk's victims will be waking up any moment now."

"So Hermione's okay!" Ron said brightly, beaming.

"There has been no lasting harm done," Dumbledore told him.

Mrs Weasley led Ginny out, and a still shaken Mr Weasley followed shortly behind.

"You know, Minerva," said Dumbledore thoughtfully to McGonagall, "I think all of this merits a good feast. Might I ask you to go and alert the kitchens?"

"Right," McGonagall said crisply. Uncle Moony still lingered at Calla and Harry's shoulders. "I'll leave you to deal with the students, shall I?"

"Certainly," said Dumbledore.

She left, and the five of them looked uncertainly at Dumbledore. Calla glanced to her godfather, who gave her an assuring smile, though he looked worried too. Harry looked at Calla worriedly. They weren't about to get punished, were they? Calla shifted nervously.

"I seem to remember telling the two of you," Dumbledore said, looking at Harry and Ron, "that I would have to expel you if you broke any more school rules."

"Now, Dumbledore-" Uncle Moony began, but was cut off.

"Which goes to show," Dumbledore said, with a twinkle in his eye, "that the best of us must sometimes eat our words."

By her side, Harry sighed loudly in relief. "You will all receive special awards for services to the school and - let me see - Yes, I'd say two hundred house points apiece."

Calla's jaw dropped open. That was six hundred points for Ravenclaw! No one could beat them now! Ron had gone a startling shade of fuschia, and Daphne's mouth was open in a wide 'O' of shock.

"But one of us is keeping mightily quiet about his part in this adventure, I see," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling at Lockhart. "What say you, Gilderoy?"

By Calla's side, Harry gave a started and turned around to look at Lockhart. But Uncle Moony interjected. "With respect, Dumbledore, it has been a long night. You've been told all you need to and the children are no doubt exhausted." He looked sternly at Calla and Harry, and though Calla had the decency to look sheepish, Harry was still grinning. "I think Calla, Harry, Ron, Padma and Daphne would all greatly appreciate a bit of sleep."

"It's okay," Harry said. "I don't feel that tired, to be honest."

"Yeah," Ron said. "Me neither."

Calla sighed. Now Uncle Moony had mentioned it, she greatly wanted to just sink into her bed in Ravenclaw Tower and fall asleep. But Ron kept talking. "There was an accident down in the chamber," he explained. "Professor Lockhart tried to cast a Memory Charm and it backfired-"

"Am I a professor?" asked Lockhart, looking mildly surprised. Uncle Moony stared at him. "Goodness, I expect I was hopeless, wasn't I?"

"Dear me," Dumbledore said, shaking his head gently. "Impaled upon your own sword, then, Gilderoy?"

"Professor Dumbledore," Padma interjected in an urgent voice, "Daphne got hit by a bit of falling rock, when the wand backfired. She hurt her head, and her arm's all bruised."

On cue, Daphne held out her arm, the dull purple and puce colour spreading over the white skin.

"I see. Miss Patil, Mr Weasley, would the two of you mind accompanying Professor Lockhart and Miss Greengrass up to the Hospital Wing as well, for me? I'd like to have a word with Harry and Calla here. Me Lupin-"

"I stay," said Uncle Moony firmly, and Dumbledore nodded with a smile.

"Of course."

Lockhart ambled our, followed by Daphne who was leaning on Padma. Ron there a curious look over his shoulder as he left, closing the door behind him.

Dumbledore crossed to one of the chairs by the fire, but Calla, Harry and Uncle Moony remained where they were.

"Please sit down," Dumbledore said, conjuring extra chairs for them. Calla cast a look at Uncle Moony before she did so.

"First of all," said Dumbledore, "I want to thank you both. You must have shown me some true loyalty down in the chamber; nothing except for that could have called Fawkes to you."

He stroked the phoenix gently, and Calla smiled. Harry grinned awkwardly beside her.

"And so you met Tom Riddle," continued Dumbledore thoughtfully. He leaned forward curiously to look at the two of them. "I imagine he would have been _most_ interested in the two of you."

"Dumbledore, I don't believe this is the time-"

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry said quickly, before Uncle Moony could finish speaking. Calla shot him a glare. "Riddle... He said I'm like him. Strange likeness, he said." He turned. "It was while you were running back, to get the wands and the mirror, when the Basilisk..."

"Attacked you," Calla finished off.

Dumbledore was regarding Harry curiously. The twinkle in his eye was gone, and that unnerved Calla somewhat. "Did he really say so? And what do you think, Harry?"

"I'm not!" Harry said sharply. Calla was taken aback, and stared at him. "I mean, I can't be, I'm in Gryffindor, I'm..." He trailed off nervously, something clearly pricking at his thoughts.

"The Sorting Hat said I'd have done well in Slytherin," he admitted in a very quiet voice. Uncle Moony raised his eyebrows. "Everyone thought I was Slytherin's Heir, for a while. Because I can speak Parseltongue."

"You can speak Parseltongue, Harry," Dumbledore said calmly, "because Lord Voldemort - who _is_ the last remaining defendant of Salazar Slytherin - can speak Parseltongue. Unless I'm much mistaken, the night that he gave you that scar, he transferred some of his powers to you. It was not something he intended to do, I am sure, but the fact remains..."

"Voldemort put a bit of him _in_ me?" Harry asked, sounding horrified. Calla just stared. How was that possible? Had he put himself in Harry like he had in the diary, too, or was it different? Though surely the diary would have been intentional.

"It certainly seems so."

"So then I _should_ be in Slytherin!" Harry said, looking around desperately first to Calla and then to a surprised Uncle Moony, as if for confirmation. "The Sorting Hat saw Slytherin's power in me, and Voldemort's and it-"

"Put you in Gryffindor," Dumbledore said firmly. But there was an air of something about him, a hint of worry and swirling thought behind that familiar twinkle in his eye.

"Harry," Uncle Moony said, with a look to Dumbledore. "You might have some of Voldemort's power in you, you might even have some similarities to him; but that does not make you him. Whether Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, you are Harry Potter. Not Tom Riddle."

"Well said, Remus," said Dumbledore quietly. "You do happen to have many abilities Salazar Slytherin prized in his students, as does your sister. Indeed, both of you possess some traits of Gryffindor, of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff and yes, Slytherin. But it was your choices that defined your house, and it is your choices which define you still, far more than your abilities." Yet he remained looking troubled.

"But..." Harry faltered for a minute, and looked at Calla like he expected her to say something; but she had no idea what. "Last year, I - I made a choice, with the Philosopher's Stone."

Dumbledore's eyes had lost their twinkle for a second. "And do you regret that choice?"

"I-" Harry faltered, and Calla looked at him. She knew exactly what he meant, and honestly she wasn't sure that she wanted to know what his answer was. "I don't know. I don't think I _can,_ sit."

"Yet that choice was not made of malice, or selfishness," Dumbledore told him. "But instead out of love, for your sister."

Harry closed his mouth, but he and Dumbledore both still looked worried. Uncle Moony looked between them all nervously.

"Professor," Calla began quietly. "What about me?" He waited for her to elaborate. "How come the diary affected me like that? I never even wrote in it, or anything, but it still affected me and my magic."

It was a long moment before Dumbledore spoke. "I cannot know for certain, Calla. Perhaps the night you got that scar, not from a curse set on you but on your brother... Perhaps you forged your own connection with Tom Riddle."

She noted the distinction. "And you think that meant he was able to, I don't know, use my weakness to make himself stronger? Like a..." She didn't want to say parasite, but it sounded about right. Like a leech, maybe.

"Perhaps," said Dumbledore. He glanced at Uncle Moony and brightened. "Now, I believe what the two of you need is food and sleep. I suggest you go down to the feast - Remus, you may have a moment with them, if you wish - while I write to Azkaban. I believe we need our gamekeeper back. And, yet again," he added, "Hogwarts finds itself in need of a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." A smile curved his lips. "I will put an advert in the Daily Prophet."

Just as Calla got up, with Uncle Moony, to open the door, it burst open violently and she reared back.

Lucius Malfoy stood there, fury written plain across his face. And cowering under his arm, heavily bandaged, with Dobby the House-Elf. It was clear Harry and Uncle Moony both recognised him too, for they sucked in sharp breaths.

"Good evening, Lucius," said Dumbledore pleasantly.

Mr Malfoy swept into the room like he owned it, almost knocking Harry over. Dobby scurried inside after him, his tiny form crouching at the hem of Malfoy's cloak with a terrified look on his little face.

"So!" said Lucius Malfoy. Calla looked at Uncle Moony urgently; she didn't want to linger in a room with that man. But Dobby was crouching there, and she realised at once he must be the Malfoy house elf. He didn't have a choice.

"You've come back," Malfoy said with a sneer. "The governors suspended you, and yet still you saw fit to make a return to Hogwarts of your own accord."

"Well, you see, Lucius," Dumbledore said with an all too serene smile. "The other eleven governors all contacted me today. It was something like being caught in a hailstorm of owls, to tell the truth." Calla's eyes snapped between Dumbledore and Malfoy to see the reaction. Suffice to say, Malfoy did not look to be taking this well. "They'd heard that Arthur Weasley's daughter had been killed and waited me back here at once. They seemed to think I was the best man for the job after all." Uncle Moony let out a small huff that was almost a laugh. "Very strange tales they told me, too. Several of them seemed to be under the impression, Lucius, that you had threatened their families with curses, if they didn't all agree to suspend me in the first place. "

Mr Malfoy had gone pale white, but his eyes were still narrowed in fury. "So - have you stopped the attacks yet? Have you caught the culprit?"

"We have," Dumbledore said with a smile.

"Well?" asked Malfoy. "Who is it?"

"The same person as last time, Lucius," Dumbledore said. "This time, however, Lord Voldemort was able to carry out his plans through another, by the use of this diary." He held up Riddle's diary with the hole clean through it and was watching Malfoy closely.

Calla glanced to Uncle Moony, who was fixatedly glaring at Malfoy, but then her eyes caught, like Harry's, on Dobby.

He was acting very odd, though Calla supposed elves often acted odd. His eyes were fixed on Harry, put he kept pointing to the diary, then at Mr Malfoy, and slammed his fist into his forehead, knocking himself backwards.

"I see..." Mr Malfoy said to Dumbledore.

Calla made to stop Dobby from hitting himself on the head, but Mr Malfoy's eyes caught on her and she froze.

"A clever plan," Dumbledore said calmly, drawing Mr Malfoy's attention back around to him. He still was staring him straight in the eye, like he was watching for something intently. "Because of the Potters here-" Mr Malfoy's gaze whipped around on Harry, this time "-and their friends had not stumbled across this diary, why, then Miss Ginny Weasley may have taken all of the blame. No one would ever have been able to prove that she hadn't acted of her own free will."

Mr Malfoy was silent, and it was as though a mask had slipped over his features. Something clicked in Calla's mind. That day at Diagon Alley, he'd picked up Ginny's textbook... And had he slipped something else inside of it?

"It was you," she said quietly. Uncle Moony looked at her curiously; Dumbledore was still speaking. "Mr Malfoy, you gave it to her."

Everyone in the room stared at her, and she saw Harry's own thoughts click into place. "In - in Floursh and Blotts," she said nervously.

"You picked up Ginny's old Transfiguration textbook," Harry said, as it dawned on him. "And you must have slipped it inside!"

"Prove it," hissed Mr Malfoy through bared teeth.

Calla coiled back.

"Oh, no one will be able to do that," Dumbledore said in a placid voice. "Not now that Riddle has vanished from the book. On the other hand, Lucius, I would advise you not to go about handing out any more of Lord Voldemort's old school things. If any more of them found their way into innocent hands, I think Arthur Weasley would see to it that they are traced back to you..."

Lucius Malfoy had gone pale. He stood for a moment and it looked like he might go for his wand - Uncle Moony stepped subtly in front of Calla and Harry - but he turned around, instead, to Dobby.

"We're going, Dobby!"

He wrenched the door open and strode out, his robe whipping about around him. As Dobby ran up to him, Malfoy kicked him through it and Calla winced, then felt anger through her. She looked to Uncle Moony. "Can we go now?" she asked quietly, and he nodded.

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry said quickly, as Calla's eyes cut to him. "Can I give that diary back to Mr Malfoy, please?"

Calla stared at him in shock. What on Earth was he thinking? But Dumbledore said, "Of course, Harry. But do hurry: the feast, remember. And I am sure Remus would like to have a word with the two of you before you head down."

Harry grabbed the diary and dashed out of the office before Cala could react. She turned to stare at Uncle Moony, who looked just as perplexed as she felt. Dumbledore had a light twinkle in his eye. "You might want to go with him," he said calmly to them both, and Uncle Moony led her out of the office.

There was no Harry down the corridor, but he must have turned down towards the stairs. Uncle Moony looked at her sternly as the office door closed behind them. "I hope you know," he said, "that you are not to do something like this again."

"But Harry-"

"I understand why you did it, Calla," Uncle Moony said quietly. "That doesn't change the fact that you may well have died down there, and your brother, too. After last year I thought you might have gained a bit more sense than to go dashing off into danger."

"I had a plan," she mumbled. "And I'm fine!"

"You shouldn't have had to have a plan for this at all," he said. "You're twelve years old and you shouldn't have had any of this responsibility on you. It should never have fallen to you or Harry, or any student, to catch the heir or to save Ginny Weasley. When I got the letter from your dorm-mates... Calla, I thought you had been killed."

"I'm sorry," Calla said, shame flooding her cheeks. "I tried to do the right thing, but-"

"I know," Uncle Moony said gently. "But Calla, your parents gave their lives to protect you and your brother. Rushing into danger, no matter how noble your intentions... It's a rather shoddy way to repay them."

She hadn't even thought of that. "I'm sorry," she mumbled again. "I didn't want Harry to get hurt, and I thought - if I could get there first I could stop him from having to go down and I could help him if he did go down and I could save him, but... You're right," she admitted, feeling tears sting her eyes. "And I am sorry, because I didn't want to worry you."

With a tender smile, Uncle Moony bent down and pulled her into a tight hug. "I know," he told her. "It's alright, and you're safe now. Now," he said, stepping back as Calla hastily dried her eyes, "we ought to find your brother."

She nodded and they went along the corridor just in time to see Dobby and Harry talking - Dobby looking excited, Harry looking rather stunned and awkward, which was a common expression on him - and Dobby fling his arms around Harry. Uncle Moony have a surprised cough that may or may not have originated as a laugh.

"Harry Potter is far greater than Dobby ever knew!" Dobby cried, and Calla raised her eyebrows. "Farewell, Harry Potter!"

Then there was a crack and Dobby disappeared and Calla, Uncle Moony, and Harry were all left staring at the spot where he'd vanished. Calla tore her gaze from the stone floor to her brother. "What happened?" she asked, stunned.

"I sort of... Freed him."

"You freed Lucius Malfoy's house elf?" Uncle Moony asked, looking both confused and proud. He let out a small bark of a laugh. "Good on you, Harry."

Harry went red. "Yeah, well, I couldn't just leave him with him, could I? He did try to save my life after all, even if he didn't do a very good job of it." Calla laughed. "Can we go to the feast now?"

On the way down, Uncle Moony gave Harry the same talk he'd given Calla, and her brother was left feeling quite put out about it. He left them at the doors to the Great Hall, making his way into the grounds, and both Harry and Calla looked at each other.

"You okay?" she asked him quietly.

After a moment's pause, he nodded. "Yeah. Are you?"

She took a moment, then nodded as well. "Yeah."

Xx

Of all the Hogwarts feast, this was by far Calla's favourite. Everyone was in their pajamas, and the celebrations lasted well into the morning when the sun was already rising in the enchanted ceiling.

Hermione had rushed in beaming, shouting delightedly at Harry and Ron and enveloping then in hugs, then bounding right over to Calla, Padma and Daphne to do the same. The whole of the Ravenclaw table had cheered louder than Calla thought possible, as Penelope Clearwater rejoined them, already crushed between her beaming year-mates.

She didn't know what the best part was: Padma and Daphne finally having made up, beaming the entire night, or when their combined six hundred points for Ravenclaw (six hundred points!) had secure dthem the House Cup again, with Gryffindor second just behind them in the running, or when Justin, Ernie, Susan, Zach and Hannah all appeared at the Ravenclaw table to wring Calla's hand and to offer hugs all around to celebrate, or when Hagrid came in at half past three and asked Calla delightedly what she thought of the acromantulas, or when Dumbledore announced that the end of year exams had been cancelled as a School treat and the whole of Ravenclaw house breathed a massive sigh of relief (though Lisa and Michael did complain their revision was for nothing, until a prefect pointed out that no knowledge was ever wasted and they cheered up, tucking into chocolate cake).

Mostly everyone cheered when it was announced that Lockhart would not be returning to teach the next year since he needed to go away to get his memory back.

It wasn't until they returned to Ravenclaw later on, at around seven o'clock, that Calla collapsed onto her bed. The girls fired questions off at her, which Daphne and Padma helped to answer, but she fell asleep soon, and allowed herself to relax.

The rest of the summer term was befittingly sunny, as it blazed down on them. Life at Hogwarts went on as normal - or as normal as life in a magical school could be - though Defense Against the Dark Arts was cancelled. "It's not like we learned much in that class anyway," Isobel said.

Owing to her part in stopping the heir, Calla was now more popular in Ravenclaw than she'd ever been, which was quite disconcerting. She, Padma and Daphne spent many of their days in the grounds, usually surrounded by the other second year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, and often by the lake playing ground Quidditch, which was rather starting to grow on Calla. To her great relief, her magic was slowly starting to improve in classes, and McGonagall congratulated her in Transfiguration, causing a good mood which carried her all the way through to their journey home on the Hogwarts Express.

She spent the first half of the journey in a carriage with Daphne, Padma, and the other girls in their dormitory, listening to Mandy's story about her cousin who'd recently signed all of his body hair off with a rogue charm, leaving only half of his left eyebrow, and making the most of the time they had left to practice magic. Lisa, she learned, was especially good at making it snow for ten seconds at a time, waiting until it had melted and then causing it to snow again.

When they were near Manchester, she, Daphne and Padma headed down the train to the compartment where Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys has set up camp, just in time for Daphne to nearly get hit in the head by one of Dr Filibuster's Fireworks. "Sorry, Greengrass," said Fred with a wicked grin. "Keep your hair on."

They were almost at King's Cross when Harry sat up. "Ginny - what did you see Percy doing that he didn't want you to tell anyone?"

Calla looked at her curiously. What had perfect prefect Percy been up to all year?

"Oh, That," Ginny said, giggling. "Well, Percy's got himself a girlfriend."

Fred dropped a stack of books on George's head. "What?"

"It's that Ravenclaw Prefect," Ginny said, with a nod to Calla. "Penelope Clearwater." Oh. Calla, Daphne and Padma all exchanged grins. "That's who he was writing to all summer. He's been meeting her all over the school, in secret. I walked in on them kissing in an empty classroom one day."

"Romantic," Daphne muttered, and Padma grinned at her.

"He was so upset when she was - you know - attacked. You won't tease him, will you?" she added anxiously, and Calla knew at once that was all Fred and George would do all summer.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Fred said, looking like he'd never heard better news in all his life.

"Definitely not," said George, snickering.

When the Hogwarts Express finally slowed to a stop, Harry pulled out his quill and a bit of parchment, and turned to Ron, Hermione, Padma and Daphne. "This is called a phone number," he said, scribbling the number down four times, before tearing his parchment into fours and handing it to each of them. "I told your dad how to use a telephone last summer, Ron, he'll know what to do. Uh, Padma-"

"My aunt married a muggle," she supplied with a smile. "We'll figure it out."

Daphne looked down at the parchment in bewilderment. "What's a telephone again?"

Calla burst out laughing. "Just get someone to explain it to you," she said. "Or you can write and I'll sneak Moony out of her cage." Her owl gave a hoot of agreement. "I'm much better at being sneaky than Harry."

"Call us at the Dursleys," Harry told them. "Okay? I can't stand another summer like the last, and I don't know when Uncle Moony'll get us."

"Your aunt and Uncle will be proud though, won't they?" Hermione asked as they got down off the train and joined the thick crowd on Platform Nine and Three Quarters. "When they hear about what the two of you did this year?"

"Proud?" said Harry, and Calla laughed. "Are you mad? All the times we could have gotten killed and didn't manage it? They'll be furious."

Just before the barrier, Daphne pulled Calla and Padma aside and said quietly, "I don't really know if I'll get the chance to phone you, Calla, or see you two. Mum and Dad are coming round but I'm really not sure they'll extend their new leaf to Muggle... telephones." Calla smiled.

"That's alright," she said. "But write us at least, so we know you're alright? We'll try and meet up when we can, yeah?"

They both nodded, and Padma pulled the two of them into a quick tight hug before they returned to the other three. Calla came to Harry's side, bumping his shoulder, and they made their way back to the Muggle world.

 **AN: And that wraps up year two! There have been quite a few changes made which will impact the story later on, and new plot threads which I'm really looking forward to developing more. There may be a short break while I work out some of the plot for book three prior to getting chapters out but it should definitely be up by about late October. Let me know if there's anything in particular you think needs to be developed more or any part of the plot you want explored more in third year; feedback is always more than welcome! :)**


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